A HAPPY WARRIOR 




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COPYRIGHT DEI'OSrr. 



A HAPPY WARRIOR 



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A HAPPY WARRIOR 

LETTERS OF 
WILLIAM MUIR RUSSEL 

AN AMERICAN AVIATOR 
In the GREAT WAR 

1917-1918 



"Who is the happy warrior? Who is he 
That every man in arms should wish to be? 
********** 
He who, if he be called upon to face 
Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined 
Great issues, good or bad for humankind, 
Is happy as a lover; and attired 
With sudden brightness, like a man inspired. 
Plays in the many games of life that one 
Where what he most doth value must be won; 
********** 
This is the happy warrior; this is he 
Whom every man in arms should wish to be." 

— Wordrworth. 



A FAMILY MEMORIAL 



Printed by 

Saturday Night Press, Inc. 

Detroit, Michigan 

1919 






Copyrighted, 1919. by 

Henry Russel 

Detroit. Michigan 



f^Ay >8 ie.is 



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FOREWORD 



The letters of William Muir Russel, Sergeant and First 
Lieutenant in the American Air Service, written home, tell 
the story of the training and experience of an American 
aviator in the great war. At his request, they were never 
published during his lifetime. 

Now that he is gone, they are gathered in book form as a 
family memorial. The numerous pictures showing the 
winsome boy and man at different ages of his short life are 
included on account of the character of the book, which is 
issued privately only, and the fact that the letters are actual 
copies with the exception of a few elisions will excuse 
repetitions, and personal references and tributes which 
otherwise might be considered offenses to modesty. The 
names he mentions and things which may seem insignificant 
to others are given just as he wrote them. 

Aside from the desire to keep his memory green and to 
gratify a just pride, the letters seem worthy of preservation 
as a contribution to the history of our country's preparation 
for war and participation in a new branch of the service. 
There seems to be inspiration in them, and here and there 
gUmpses of premonition. 

The history of the boy who gave his life so willingly is 
brief. He was born in the house which was his only home 
in Detroit, Michigan, on December 4, 1893, the youngest of 
five children, three sisters and a brother who died in his 

[v] 



Foreword 



youth. He was named for his mother's father, William 
Muir. In his early infancy, he was nicknamed "Columbus" 
on account of the curious happening narrated in the letter 
contained in this book, written the day before he expected 
to sail for overseas service. 

He was the first scholar and baby of the Detroit Uni- 
versity School and a member of Gamma Delta Psi. In 
1910, after his mother's death, he went to the Hill School, 
Pottstown, Pennsylvania, where he graduated in the class of 
1913, and was editor-in-chief of the Dial, and a member of 
the students' governing committee. He went from there to 
Cornell University, and graduated in the class of 1917. 
The degree of Bachelor of Arts was conferred three months 
after he enlisted. He was a member of the Kappa Alpha 
Fraternity and some of the other leading organizations in 
college, in all of which, by reason of his popularity and traits 
of leadership, he held prominent office. He never took a 
high stand as a scholar, but was a well-posted, intelligent 
student, a good speaker, and an unusually fine, fluent writer. 

From the time when he was a very little chap, a pad of 
paper and a long pencil were always part of his pocket 
equipment, and the leaves were filled with his beautiful 
handwriting and fine drawings. The habit continued with 
him in the use of his ever-ready fountain pen. There are 
seventy of his letters in this book, written on any old paper 
from wherever he happened to be during his fifteen months 
of service. Of course, he must have written many others. 

He was a manly fellow, blessed with good health, a vigor- 
ous frame, and a receptive mind. He inherited the good 



Foreword 



looks and admirable traits of his charming, Christian mother. 
The family were Presbyterians and he was a member of that 
church. 

He had a merry tongue in his head, and bubbled over with 
humor. The many stories of his childhood wit treasured in 
the family are delightful, and in any company and under all 
circumstances, he was an agreeable, desired companion. 
In his conversation, and in his letters written before he went 
to war, flashes of wit were frequent. He was voted the 
wittiest man in his class, and yet in all his letters contained 
in this book, there are few touches of humor. From a 
happy, carefree boy, he became, almost over night, a serious 
man, intensely imbued with a sense of duty. There was 
also a physical change; from a vigorous stripling, he devel- 
oped in five months into a robust man, adding nearly twenty 
pounds to his weight. 

He had never engaged in any regular employment, and 
had hardly ever done any business work except in connection 
with his school, college and social activities, until he entered 
the service. He possessed rather exceptional mechanical 
skill and knowledge, especially of motors and electric and 
photographic apparatus, and seemed to grasp the science. 

He was proficient in athletic sports and games, and was 
especially fond of angling and life in the woods. In his 
early boyhood he became his father's companion and 
fished many trout and salmon streams with him. His skill 
and engaging qualities made him welcome company with 
older men. 



viii Foreword 



He was an expert swimmer, and just before he sailed 
overseas, remarked, "Take care of that copper cup which 
I won in the swimming contest at Gloucester. It is the 
only prize I ever took in my life." This fact may have 
been due to his extreme modesty, which was almost a draw- 
back to him. 

He had traveled somewhat extensively in the United 
States and Canada. His vacations were spent on the 
Fontinalis Stream in the Michigan woods, at Grosse Pointe 
on Lake St. Clair, and at the seashore. There was never 
a summer of his life until he went to war without some 
happy days along the Fontinalis, fishing and singing by 
himself as was his wont. In 1915, he made an automobile 
trip across the continent to the Panama Exposition. A 
party of six boys with three cars drove from Detroit by 
way of the Sante Fe Trail, and returned by the Oregon 
Trail and the Lincoln Highway. He wrote a vivacious and 
entertaining account of the sights and of the many adven- 
tures and mishaps of the long journey. In July, 1918, he 
was brevetted an Aviator Pilot of the Aero Club of America. 

Aside from such ordinary uneventful incidents of a boy's 
life and of association with a large family and troops of 
friends who loved him dearly, there is little to record except 
the last eventful experiences told in his letters, and the 
circumstances of his final sacrifice. 

He was attached to the 95th Aero Squadron, First Pursuit 
Group of the American Air Service, and went to the front 
at one of the most active fighting sectors on July 16th, 
1918. He undertook actual service at once as a pursuit 



Foreword 



pilot over the enemy lines at Chateau Thierry and was 
in many battles. The day before his last patrol, he took 
part in an air combat in which four Boche planes were 
downed. On the morning of August 11th, 1918, just one 
year from the day he wrote, "At last I am a regular 
aviator," when he was the rear guard of a patrol of 
thirteen Spad, type 13, 220 H. P. planes, and flying very 
high — higher than the other machines and well behind them 
— he was cut off by a formation of five German Fokkers 
which came out of the sun upon him. His companions saw 
him start fighting, and immediately attacked the enemy 
planes, but he was separated from them in the dog fight, 
and they never saw him again. One of his companions in 
the air battle writes: "We got two of the Boche planes, 
but it was dreadfully hard luck just the same. Bill had 
fought his last fight, and he was the kind we hate to lose." 
It was at the time of the fierce and constant battles near 
the Vesle River and the only further accounts of his last 
fight came by telephone message from the 133rd French 
Infantry which reported that he was seen in combat with a 
number of enemy planes over the vicinity of Vauxcere, and 
that, although at a great disadvantage, he was handling his 
craft with skill and strategy, and had just made a double 
renverse, when he must have been hit and started for his own 
lines, and very soon the plane, as if without control, 
glided and crashed to the earth within the Allied lines. 
Another account from the same source states that in the 
midst of the fighting, his plane suddenly fluttered as if it 
had no driver, and crashed to the ground within the enemy 



Foreword 



lines, and that on the same day the French made an advance 
and took the territory where he lay. No more definite 
information has yet been attainable. On the same day, he 
was buried by strangers in the grave where he now lies in 
the Communal Cemetery of the Village of Courville, 
France, about three kilometers south of Fismes. The rude 
cross marking the spot bears the inscription, carefully and 
clearly made with a lead pencil — 

VILLIAM M. RUSSEL 

First Lieutenant 

Aviateur Americain 

11 

Aout 

1918. 

Long before our country was compelled to intervene, he 
apparently realized that war was unavoidable, and was 
inspired with a foresight of the game in life "where what he 
most would value must be won." His letters clearly exhibit 
his spirit and feelings and show what steps he had taken 
before consulting his father, and his satisfaction that his 
desires and intentions were approved. 

The reader will, no doubt, agree that he possessed the 
characteristics which the poet ascribes, and can truthfully 
be called a Happy Warrior. 

Detroit, Mich., January, 1919. 



CONTENTS 



Page 



Foreword 



Over Here 1 

Letters from United States, April 1st to 
October 5th, 1917. 

Interscription 83 

Letter written by his father from New York, 
October 12th, 1917. 

Over There 93 

Letters from Overseas, October 15th, 1917, 
to August 3, 1918. 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 
Lieutenant Russel at the front, August, 1918 Frontispiece 

Birthplace v 

William M. Russel — 

1896 xiv 

1900 1 

1906, D. U. S 4 

1912, Hill 6 

1915, Cornell 8 

Little Pabos River 23 

Sergeant Russel — First solo flight 73 

Lieutenant Russel, New York, October 11, 1917 . . 80 

S. S. St. Louis, October 15, 1917 91 

At sea 91 

Nieuport Pursuit Plane 96 

Spad Pursuit Plane 120 

The Family— 1901 127 

Renversement — Pen and ink sketch 130 

Mss.— First page letter of March 20, 1918 .... 145 

Mss.— Page letter of April 8, 1918 158 

Target record of gun camera 162 

Fontinalis 168 

Lieutenant Russel — Issoudun, March, 1918 . . . 174 

"Bill" and "Smut" 182 

Spad — About to take flight 186 

Orly — Group of snapshots 198 

Lieutenant Russel and dog "Stupide" 202 

Nieuport — W. M. R. plane 204 

Courville, France, Grave 212 



/ 



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OVER HERE 




1900 



OVER HERE 



TELEGRAM 

Ithaca, New York, 

April 1, 1917. 
Henry Russel, 

917 Jefferson Avenue, 

Detroit, Michigan. 

War is sure. Maury and I want to enlist. Will you 

meet us New York tomorrow and take us to Washington? 

William M. Russel. 



TELEGRAM 

Detroit, Michigan, 

,, ^ April 1, 1917. 

William M. Russel, 

Kappa Alpha Lodge, 

Ithaca, N. Y. 

Glad you desire to enlist, but do not be so fast. Can't 

meet you tomorrow. If you have not time to write, wire 

me night letter telling more about your plans and wishes. 

Henry Russel. 

NIGHT LETTER 

Ithaca, New York, 

April 2, 1917. 
Henry Russel, 

Detroit. 
Thanks for message. Maury and I have already made 
application here for enlistment in aviation. If we pass 

[11 



A Happy Waerior 



examinations, we go in as privates on promise of Lieuten- 
ants' commissions if we can pass flying tests after instruc- 
tion. You can help to get prompt action. That's all we 
want. They might string us along three weeks. Have 
passed all college exams. University will let us go now to 
enlist. My degree will come in June. 

William. 



TELEGRAM 

Detroit, Michigan, 
April 3, 1917. 
William M. Russel, 
Ithaca. 
Am leaving for New York tomorrow. Can you meet us 
at Biltmore Thursday? Answer. 

Henry Russel. 



Henry Russel, 
Detroit. 



TELEGRAM 

Ithaca, New York, 
April 4, 1917. 

Yes. 

William. 



At New York, he was taken to the office of one of the 
great business concerns, and to his surprise, his employment 
by the company was discussed in his presence. A desirable 
position, which would have given him the opportunity of 



OVE R H E R 



foreign travel was offered, and he was told that he could 
begin work in the New York office the next day. He bowed 
and said, "Thanks," but nothing more until he was out on 
Broadway, when he exclaimed, "Father, I can't take that 
job. I must enlist. Aren't you going to take me to 
Washington?" 

His friend, Maury Hill of St. Louis, Missouri, now a 
Captain in the Air Service, met him in Washington, and on 
April 14, 1917, the two boys were notified that they had 
passed their physical and mental examinations, and that 
certificates of enlistment would be issued, and they returned 
to Ithaca. 

The certificate of enlistment, dated May 10, 1917, states 
that William M. Russel was enlisted as Sergeant, Aviation 
Section, Signal Corps, Enlisted Reserve Corps of the Army 
of the United States on the 26th day of April, 1917, for the 
period of four years. 



TELEGRAM 



Washington, D. C, 
April 23, 1917. 
Sergeant William M. Russel, 
Detroit. 

Captain Milling has ordered your and Hill's enlistment. 
Much time will be saved by beating it at your expense, 
and reporting to officer in charge, Memphis Training 
Camp. Telegraphic orders will be there. You are an 
honor to your country. Good luck. 

HUTTON. 



A Happy Warrior 



TELEGRAM 

Detroit, Michigan, 
April 24, 1917. 
A. R. Christy, 

Captain Signal Corps, 
Aviation School, 

Memphis, Tenn. 
Have advice of enlistment from Washington, and to 
report to you. Expect to reach Memphis Thursday after- 
noon, twenty-sixth instant. 

William M. Russel. 



TELEGRAM 

Detroit, Michigan, 
April 24, 1917. 
Sergeant Maury Hill, 
5505 Lindell Blvd., 
St. Louis, Mo. 
Telegram from Major Hutton saying our enlistment 
ordered, and to report at once at Memphis. I will leave 
here tomorrow, due Memphis Thursday noon. Cordova 
Hotel. 

Bill. 



Hotel Chisca, 
Memphis, Tennessee, 
April 27, 1917. 

Dear Father — 
I have arrived safely after a rather long trip on a very 

poor train — from Fulton to Memphis on a local. 




Detroit University School (D. U. S.) 
1906 



Over Here 



At Chicago, I found Bill Blair waiting for me at the 
station, and we drove to the College Inn, where we talked 
nothing but aviation in particular and in general. He has 
received his Pilot's license from the Aero Club of America, 
and now wishes to be in the government service. He 
expects to go to Washington, and will try to be assigned to 
Memphis to complete his course. 

I found Maury at the station when I reached Memphis. 
Tell Uncle Jere that he has become a back number. The 
Cordova Hotel, to which he referred me, was torn down 
years ago. We found this hotel where we are well fixed for 
the time being, but expect at once to hunt for an apartment 
or a rooming house. 

The field is about eight miles from town, and remote from 
everything. What do you think of my picking up a cheap 
second-hand car or a Ford? We have to report at the field 
every morning at seven o'clock, and it is about three- 
quarters of an hour's ride on the trolley, and a substantial 
walk afterwards. 

I have already met a good many of the young men in the 
school, and they are certainly a clean-cut lot of fellows. 
Captain Christy, the boss, is fine. 

At present, there are about thirty aeroplanes here, ten or 
more being up in the air most of the time. 

This will give you a fair notion of what I have done and 
seen so far. Will let you know my definite address as soon 
as I get located. In the meantime, write me here. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



A Happy Warrior 



Memphis, Tennessee, 
April 29, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

We have had a very cordial reception from everybody 
here, and although we had no letters of introduction, I 
think we have been fortunate. I had not been here half an 
hour before I met two very good friends from Cornell,whom 
I did not even know lived here. They have taken us out 
for lunch and dinner, and have introduced us to many nice 
people. Out at the field, too, we have found a fine lot of 
college fellows. 

The instructor to whom I will probably be assigned is a 
Cornell graduate of 1905, and about as enthusiastic a 
Cornellian as I have ever met. This afternoon, he will 
introduce us to all of our superior officers. 

On our arrival, we found orders O. K. to enlist us, but not 
to put us into actual service, so Thursday afternoon, after 
being sworn in, I was permitted to go into town and wire 
Major Hutton for the other order. On Friday noon, it 
came from Washington, and we were immediately put into 
active service. 

Saturday, we reported to Lieutenant Brown for vaccina- 
tion and typhoid fever serum injection. The latter made 
me very ill, and I was at once placed on the sick list. I 
went to the hotel, slept all the afternoon and night, and ate 
nothing until this morning. Now, I feel fairly well, al- 
though I still have some fever. They tell me it will last 
some days, and then I will have the second and third 
injections. 




Hill School 
1912 



OVE R H E R E 



Monday morning, I report to Sergeant Lyle in the repair 
department at seven o'clock. I don't know how soon I will 
begin flying. 

In regard to the rooming quarters, Maury and I have been 
on the go every minute we could, trying to find something 
near the field. The nearest boarding houses are about two 
miles away, and apartment houses are over in the opposite 
side of the city, and inconvenient to the car line which runs 
only every half hour. Joe Galloway has asked us to visit 
him until we can get settled, but his house is also remote. 
Mr. Hill has just this minute telephoned me saying that he 
knows of a good boarding house which will be convenient. 

The weather is like mid-summer in Detroit. Flowers and 
trees are all in bloom, I am glad I brought my summer 
clothing. We are told that our entire uniform and equip- 
ment except leather puttees will be furnished. 

Hope you are all well. 

Your loving son, 

William. 

N. B. — I was glad to see Jim Buckley for a few minutes 
yesterday. He is trying hard to get by and enlist, and I 
hope he will make it. 

Wm. 



Memphis, Tennessee, 
May 1, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

Work has begun in earnest, and I must admit it is a more 
novel experience than I expected. We were ordered to 



8 A Happy Warrior 

report at the field yesterday at seven o'clock, which meant 
rising at 5:15 in the morning, a hasty breakfast, and a long 
ride. Dressed in our overalls, we were at once set to 
strenuous mental and manual labor; taking instruction by 
lecture, and tearing down and assembling aeroplanes. The 
work is entirely new to me, and has to be done rapidly, but 
it is amazing how much one can learn by practical experience 
even without instruction. At twelve o'clock, a bugle 
sounds, which informs us that we can check in our tools and 
rush to a small cafeteria across from the field and stand up 
to a delicious luncheon of ham and egg sandwiches and a 
bottle of coca cola. I then crawl into one of the hangars 
and have a rest — that is, if I rush my sandwich. 

Another bugle at one o'clock, and we return to the 
assembling and repair department. Work then continues 
until four o'clock, when we are summoned for muster and 
inspection. At 4:30, we have drill for half an hour; then 
two or three times a week, a lecture on aero-dynamics, after 
which we scoot for town and get a good bath and a better 
dinner. It may seem incredible to you, but I am enjoying 
work, and outside of a few aching bones, never felt better in 
my life. 

Bob Townes and Joe Galloway have done everything in 
the world for us. 

I had dinner and a good visit with Jim Buckley the other 
evening. He has failed in his physical exam, for aviation 
on account of bad eyes. The average down here accepted 
is five out of twenty-four examined. 

You will understand that it will take some little time for 




Cornell University 
1915 



Over Here 



me to become accustomed to work, so I will not write you 

again for a few days. 

Love to all. 

Your loving son, 



William. 



Memphis, Tennesseb, 

May 8, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

Never before have I looked forward so eagerly to Satur- 
day afternoon and Sunday for rest as now, at the end of the 
first real working week of my life. I felt, however, that such 
a breath from Heaven as a week-end rest was too good to be 
true. Sure enough, it was so. Friday evening, I was sum- 
moned to headquarters and ordered to report for guard duty 
at twelve o'clock Sunday, and had to pace the field until six 
o'clock — then off until eight o'clock, when I was again on 
guard until ten, then off until two a. m., when I went on 
guard again until four o'clock Monday morning. I was 
fortunate in not encountering any spies or plotters, although 
I was armed to the teeth. The next night, the watch, who 
was on guard for the same hours to which I was assigned, 
brought in a suspect who is now under arrest. 

My work during each day has been practically the same. 
To prove how strenuous it is, it will probably surprise you 
to know that I have been in bed every night by a quarter of 
nine, with the exception of Sunday night guard duty. I 
have, however, oeen placed on the flying list, which means 
that I have a flight every day, weather permitting. My first 
ride was what they call a joy ride. You merely sit and 
endeavor to accustom yourself to the new sensations. 



10 A Happy Warrior 

From now on, I will be permitted to drive with the instructor 
at another set of controls behind me to correct any fault. 
It is hard to describe the feeling. At first it gives you very 
peculiar sensations in your stomach and ears. One thing 
that surprised me was the roughness of the riding. Looking 
at an aeroplane from the ground, it seems to glide, but the 
riding in the aeroplanes in use here is very rough and 
choppy. It may be a consolation to you to know that I 
have been assigned to an instructor who is said to be the 
most conservative flyer on the field. 

We were told today that this field had been condemned 
because it was too small, and that the detachment would 
either be moved to Indianapolis or Chicago. I am not sure 
of this, but it is positive that we will move somewhere 
within the next month. 

I received your letter from Detroit, but failed to get 
either the letter or the paper from New York. I was 
exceedingly sorry to hear about the death of Gus Porter, 
and regret that the newspaper giving the details did not 
come. He was one of the bravest, best fellows ever, and it 
is hard that he has been taken so soon. I heard, also, that 
Charlie Weigonel, another of my good friends at Cornell, 
was killed in an accident at Newport. He was in training 
for the torpedo chasers, the mosquito fleet. 

I have purchased, for a hundred dollars, a second-hand Hup- 
mobile which will run, and am now operating a free jitney. 

Tonight, I am dining with Joe Galloway at his father's 
beautiful residence in Memphis, and on Sunday, will have 
dinner with Mr. Lee, a friend of Maury's father. 



OVE R H E R E 11 



The trout reels are all in the top drawer of the table in 
my room on the third floor. 

What do you hear from our good old fishing friend 
Walter Brackett, of the Ste. Marguerite? Is he a hundred 
years old yet?* 

Love to all, 

Your loving son, 
William. 

Memphis, Tennessee, 

May 10, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

This noon, I had my second inoculation for typhoid, and 
have again been placed on the sick list. The doctor told 
me to keep out of the sun, and not to take any exercise. 
As yet, however, I feel fine, with no signs of fever. 

Next week has a good deal in store for us in the way of 
work. Yesterday, orders came from Washington that all 
further flying on this field should cease, as it is too small to 
be safe. Captain Royce immediately notified us, and then 
rumors were rife. Some were sure that we would leave 
immediately for Indianapolis; some. Mobile; some, San 
Antonio; and others, Chicago. I think the chances are, we 
will be sent to Chicago. Tomorrow, we start packing the 
aeroplanes and camp equipment. This will take us about 
a week, and then I suppose we will be informed of our 
destination. 

If Chicago is selected, we will probably be placed in 
barracks as soon as they can be constructed. My flying 



♦Walter M. Brackett, the celebrated painter and salmon fisherman of Boston, died 
before this book was completed, on March 4, 1919, at the age of 96 years. 



12 A Happy Warrior 

was advancing rapidly up to the time when this change was 
ordered. I am afraid my next flight will be far in the future. 

I had a very fine letter from Christine from New York, 
and also from Allen, giving me the names of several of his 
Memphis friends. Have received the book, "Mihtary 
Aeroplanes." It is a good technical book, and I am study- 
ing it with interest. 

I hope you are all well. 

Your loving son, 

William. 

This letter encloses a newspaper chpping, dated Paris, 
May 9, 1917, as follows: 

"The Stars and Stripes appeared on the streets of Paris 
as the battle flag of an armed force this morning, when the 
flag and fifty men of the American Field Service under it 
on their way to the railway station for the front were 
acclaimed enthusiastically by early risers all along the route. 
Thirty-one members of the contingent are from Cornell 
University. This is the first detachment of the American 
Field Service to bear arms, and is detailed for the trans- 
portation of munitions to the front." 



Memphis, Tennessee, 
May 11, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

My second inoculation for typhoid yesterday gave me no 
fever. I returned to my room, waiting all afternoon for evil 
effects to come, but instead of that, I felt better and better. 



OVE R H E R E 13 



This morning, I wakened at the usual early hour, and felt 
so good that I did not take the rest of naiy 24-hour leave, and 
reported to the field. It was a mistake, because I found 
about the busiest day of my short enlistment experience 
awaiting me. Two other men and myself tore down two 
entire machines and packed them for shipment. 

It is announced that we will go to Ashburn, near Chicago. 
We do not know definitely whether we are to find our own 
quarters or live in barracks (tents) there. Whatever the 
quarters may be, the change will be welcome. It is terribly 
hot and uncomfortable here, and, of course, we will have a 
larger and less dangerous field. It will, however, hold back 
our training some three weeks. The next few days will 
surely be busy ones with all the tearing down and packing 
that must be done. 

Sunday, Maury and I, as I wrote you, expect to dine with 
Mr. and Mrs. Robert Lee. 

One young fellow came here, entered the aviation school, 
and about a week after his arrival, was thrown into the 
guard house. He is suspected of being pro-German, and 
although he has now been under guard for several weeks, 
there is no indication of a trial set for him yet. 

Another boy has also been placed under guard, and re- 
moved from the flying list because he cheated in an exami- 
nation. Although he is still in the camp, he will probably 
be dishonorably discharged. Captain Royce gave us a 
good talk on this subject yesterday, and told us the way it 
was dealt with at West Point. 

I have the New York papers which you sent, and note 



H A Happy Warrior 

that the government has refused to recognize the Yale 
Battery as an army unit. 

I will probably now be able to see you soon. 
With love to all, 

William. 



Memphis, Tennessee, 
May 13, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

There is a general supposition that the easiest and 
quickest way to obtain a commission in the reserve army is 
in aviation. This, I can assure you, is wholly erroneous, 
and whenever you hear it repeated, you can deny it with 
authority of sixty-nine young fellows down here. My 
experience is just the same as the others. I have been here 
a little over two weeks, and have not had an afternoon or 
morning off except the sick absences following the inocula- 
tions required in the army regulations. Both Saturdays 
and Sundays have been spent at the field. 1 have just now 
returned from my usual seven a. m. to four p. m. hours. Of 
course, Sunday work is not ordinary, but if it happens to 
suit the Captain's fancy, or there is something unusual, 
there is no alternative, and no extra pay, and no less dan- 
ger, although we never think of that. 

Everything is being pushed to make the earliest departure 
possible for Ashburn, near Chicago. We will leave Wednes- 
day if the cars for the transportation of our material can be 
had. We are told that we will have two days at Chicago to 
obtain quarters until barracks can be built. Maury and I 
and two other boys are considering Hotel Windermere, 



Over Here 15 



which is very convenient to the field, although seven miles 
away. There is fair train service to and from the field. 
Here, we have a plot of ground about the size of a large city 
block on which to descend. In Chicago, the field is more 
than a mile square, with open surrounding country on 
which forced landings can be made. This change has 
caused more delay in our flying. No machines have as- 
cended since last Tuesday, and it will probably be at least 
two weeks before any more flights will be made. 

In comparison with an automobile, it has been surprising 
to me how simple the construction of an aeroplane is, and 
the rapidity with which it can be set up and torn down. 
To enable us to become familiar with the construction of an 
aeroplane, this move has been a God-send to us, as we are 
learning it at first hand in detail in the most practical way. 

Allen's friend, Mr. Maury, came out to the field to see me 
the other day, and he could not have arrived at a more 
inopportune time. I was in overalls, and as black as the 
Jack of Spades. It was a curious coincidence that he is 
Maury's cousin, and they had not seen or known each other 
before. He was very kind, and offered to give us every sort 
of diversion, but it is all in vain. We have not a minute off. 
By the time I am cleaned up in the evening, it is dinner time, 
and bed time follows immediately. Sundays are our only 
chance, and so far, I have been deprived of both. 

Our visit here has been very good, and Memphis is an 
attractive city. The people seem to me to be like those of 
Los Angeles. The weather is so regular, and much of the 
time so hot, that they are easy going. There is none of the 



16 A Happy Warrior 

hustle and bustle to which I have been accustomed. You 
can observe it on the streets as well as in conversation. 
They have the slow Southern drawl which impresses me as 
a waste of time. I will feel more at home in Chicago. We 
will locate Bill Blair there, and he will surely help us out. 
Hoping to see you in Chicago, I am. 

With love, 

William. 



TELEGRAM 

Chicago, III., 
May 21, 1917. 
Henry Russel, 
Detroit. 
Arrived Chicago after tiresome thirty-two-hour trip from 
Memphis. At Hotel Fort Dearborn. Week of hard work 
before machines are set up and flying resumed. Ashburn 
is very desolate, but the field and surroundings seem fine. 
Well. Love. 

W. M. R. 



Chicago, III., 
May 23, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

This is the first chance I have had to write. The loading 
continued last week up to the last minute, and then I 
received the unpleasant news to report at once for guard 
duty. The loaded freight cars were pulled out into the 
yard in a remote part of the city, and four of us were ordered 
to stand guard over the train all night. We worked in 



OVE R H E R E 17 



three shifts. My hours were ten to twelve and two to four. 
After that, until train time, we were all on guard. It was 
very unpleasant work owing to the nasty location. 

The train left at eleven, and then began an awful railroad 
trip. Our first stop was at a lonely little town about five 
in the afternoon, where we ate a poor luncheon and supper 
combined. There were no more stops that evening, and 
the next day, we made an untimely stop for an equally bad 
breakfast about ten o'clock. The third stop, about four in 
the afternoon, gave us our lunch. At six o'clock, we arrived 
in Chicago, and apparently were not expected. It was a 
good thing I had drawn that draft on you in Memphis and 
had some money, because we had to pay for our train fare 
and meals, but were told that it would be credited to our 
accounts. 

We have not received a cent of pay yet, and expenses 
have been heavy. My only extravagance so far has been 
that hundred dollar automobile. The man I bought it 
of feels confident that I can sell it and get my money 
back. 

On arrival at Chicago, we went to the Fort Dearborn 
Hotel because it was most convenient. Orders were given 
out the night of our arrival to report at the field next 
morning at seven o'clock sharp. 

Ashburn is located fourteen miles out of Chicago in a 
most desolate place. It is simply a railroad junction with 
two or three small dwellings in the neighborhood. There 
are four trains a day, the first leaving at six o'clock a. m. — 
our train. We reported according to orders, and in a nasty 



18 A Happy Warrior 

cold rain. It was such a contrast to Memphis that every- 
body took cold. There were no warehouses or sheds, and 
we had to unload the planes on the ground in the open, and 
then carry or push them nearly a mile. When lunch time 
came, we were let off for an hour, but there was no place to 
eat. We finally managed to get some crackers, no cheese 
or anything else, and nothing hot. All this rush was 
deemed necessary because the orders were to save demurrage 
on the cars. The next day, we had the same experience, 
but were finally rescued from the two regular army sergeants 
in charge by the captain, who ordered them to stop the 
nonsense, and to let the planes remain in the cars, protected 
from the elements until a storage place could be found, and 
to let us go to get some clothing suitable to the climate and 
to find permanent quarters. This morning, we were re- 
quired to report to the field again as usual, but were allowed 
to go at once. 

We have found the Drexel Arms not luxurious, but very 
good. There are five of us together — two boys from Nash- 
ville, one from St. Louis, one from Indianapolis, and one 
from a city which I am afraid I never really appreciated 
before. 

I do not believe many more hardships can come to us 
here, and we understand our first pay will come on the 
15th of June. Pay checks will be a novel sight to many 
of us. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



OVE R H E R E 19 



TELEGRAM 

Chicago, III., 

May 29, 1918. 
Henry Russel, 

Detroit. 

Am not lonely, but would enjoy a visit from you Sunday. 

Permanent address — Elms Hotel Annex. Answer. 

William. 



AsHBURN, III., 

June 13, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

The trip home was a delight to me. It was so good to 
see you all, even for a few hours. The ride back on Sunday 
afternoon was so different from what I have been accus- 
tomed to recently, and the time passed quickly. I was at 
53rd Street, Chicago, almost before I knew it, and tucked 
away in bed by 9 :30 for the early start next morning. 

The last two days have been beautiful — the air clear and 
still. Ten to fifteen machines have been in flight nearly all 
the time. You cannot imagine the difference between flying 
at Memphis and here. At Memphis, we had a small field 
with heavy woods on one side, where naturally the air was 
cool and descending rapidly, while on the other side was a 
lumber yard, on which the sun beat down heating the air, 
and causing it to rise. On a field of this kind, you can 
imagine the bumps you hit as you cross from the ascending 
air into the still air, and then into the descending air. On the 
other hand, the field here at Ashburn is a mile square, and 
the surrounding country open, and of the same level, which 
causes the ride to be a gliding motion, perfectly smooth. 



20 A Happy Warrior 

Yesterday, six new machines arrived, the first of a bunch 
of eighteen which have been ordered for this field, making 
forty-eight in all. They are standard aeroplanes, manu- 
factured, I think, in Plainfield, New Jersey. The same 
type of machine is used at Mineola. 

Last night, I was again on guard, and after two such 
perfect days, I thought I was lucky, but the tables turned 
against me, and the weather went to the worst extreme. 
All night long, the rain poured down, and the wind whistled 
around the canvas hangars, and all night long, we paced to 
and fro. Every half hour, we had to go the rounds with the 
watchman's clock, and punch it at the different posts. At 
the end of our guard, we adjourned to headquarters for a 
four-hour snooze, but found that the blankets and cots had 
been locked up in the Quartermaster's Department, and as 
it took a sudden shift from rain to very cold weather, we 
had to stand shivering in our wet clothes until relieved about 
six o'clock. Then I went to a farmer's house, and after 
much pleading, persuaded the good wife to make some coffee 
for me and let me dry out at her kitchen fire. I am writing 
to you now from this house. 

The papers of the last few days look as if Washington is 
beginning to take more notice of this branch of the service. 
There is a bill before Congress to raise the appropriation 
from seventy to five hundred million, and to establish an 
aviation portfolio in the Cabinet. 

I have been transferred from my former instructor, Mr. 
Macauley, to Mr. Pond, a son of Admiral Pond. I under- 
stand he is quite good, but a different style of flyer from Mr 



OVE R H E R E 21 



Macauley. I am sorry to part from Mr. Macauley but 
think I will like Mr. Pond. ' At any rate, I am going to stick 
to orders. It is foolish to ask for a transfer after you have 
been assigned. 

I do not know whether this letter will reach you before 
you leave for the Little Pabos River. I envy you; at 
the same time, I would not leave my work here even to 
go there. I hope you will have as great success as we had 
last year. Was it not wonderful fishing? Being deprived 
of a visit to Fontinalis, which I do not think I have ever 
missed in any year, will be one of the many sacrifices I will 
now have to make. 

I hope you are all well and that every minute of your trip 
will be pleasant. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 

AsHBURN, III., 

June 18, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

Work has been progressing, although slowly. Since our 
bad storm the other evening, the weather has been better, 
and the ground is drying out very rapidly for such a marshy 
place. The machines are being set up, and by the end of 
the week, we ought to have all forty-eight in commission. 
The new machines show beautiful workmanship, but as yet 
we have had none of them in the air. Some of these 
machines, we expect, will be equipped with the new "stick" 




Aquarium Pool, Little Pabos River 



OVE R H E R E 23 



military work I am performing here, no one would think 
that I was even an imitation of a Bachelor of Arts. I do 
not realize it myself. 

Bill Blair has received his commission as ensign in the 
United States Naval Aviation Section. He started a 
school for training men, and now has ten students. He 
desires to get twenty, and have two or three machines. 
He telephoned me the other evening, and asked me to learn 
whether any Detroit men would care to enter this branch 
and receive a commission after they pass the tests of the 
Aviation Club of America, and get pilots' licenses. The 
medical examinations are not severe, and the tests are quite 
simple. I wired Pat Wardwell all the information, and 
asked him to post it in the University Club of Detroit. 
It is really a good opportunity. In that service, nothing is 
required but straight flying. 

On Saturday I went to the Blackstone Hotel for a treat, 
and ran into a bunch of Detroit people, among others, 
Charlie Hodges, Tom Whitehead and Edsel Ford. Charlie 
is at Fort Sheridan. Eddie is full of enthusiasm to enlist, 
and will probably go into the motor transportation serv- 
ice, or, as he says, drive a car for an officer, if necessary. 
He will make a millionaire chauffeur. Tom has not made 
up his mind yet what branch he will take. 

I can picture you now, sitting on the banks of the lovely 
Little Pabos River, looking down into the pool at your feet 
where those big salmon are. Oh, if I could only follow 
this letter to its destination! I have, however, the mem- 
ory of my one trip there, and I take consolation from 



24 A Happy Warrior 

that, as well as from the hope some day to see and hear 
the tumbling waters again. Be sure and let me know how 
the salmon are running and what records are shattered. 
Good-bye, with love, 

William. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 

AsHBURN, III., 

June 22, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

The last week has been so perfect, and so much has been 
accomplished, that I feel as if I had a new lease of life, and 
am more enthusiastic about flying than ever. 

The sun has shone all week, and, as a result, the ground 
has thoroughly dried out. Last Monday, I made only one 
flight, but on each of the remaining days, I have made two. 
With this long consecutive run, I have at last got some 
confidence in myself, and yet, at the same time, I feel how 
little I really know. The flying in mid-air above an altitude 
of two thousand feet is comparatively simple. The 
quicker action and decision is required as you get nearer the 
ground. I should say that, barring such accidents to an 
aeroplane as might happen to an automobile, a locomotive, 
or even a carriage, from a concealed defect, or the breaking 
of a part, a fellow is safe when flying at a height of more 
than one thousand feet; between one thousand and five 
hundred feet, he is reasonably safe; at less than five hundred 
feet, there are elements of danger. You cannot rest even 
in a straight course as with an automobile. Each little 



OVE R H EK E 25 



puff of wind swings you to the right or to the left. The 
early morning flight, however, is very different. The air 
usually is perfectly quiet, and you glide along like a bird. 
My instruction last week consisted practically of straight 
flying, with occasional turns. The early part of this week, 
I spent in making left hand turns in the form of a circle or 
square. On Wednesday, I began on right hand turns, 
which are very different from the left hand ones. This is 
due to the revolving of the propeller, the tendency being 
not only to turn your machine to the left, but also to upset 
it laterally to the left. This must be prevented by giving 
it right rudder and right aileron more than left, thus holding 
your machine in a stable position. Seven machines have 
been somewhat damaged this week on account of too steep 
a descent before landing. The ground is still somewhat 
soft, and the front wheels stick in the mud, which throws the 
tail up in the air, and causes the machine to stand on its 
nose, and smash the propeller. Ordinarily, it is not 
very serious, but rather a nuisance, as it puts the machine 
out of commission for some time. Aeroplanes now are 
plentiful. We have forty-eight for the use of seventy-three 
students. One of our most advanced men, who was already 
recommended for his commission, has been indefinitely 
suspended for looping the loop with a passenger. In the 
first place, it is strictly against the rules for a student to 
loop the loop without permission of the commanding 
officer, and secondly, it is forbidden except for an instructor 
ever to loop with a passenger. 

My admiration for the Red Cross has been decidedly 



26 A Happy Warrior 

increased in the last few days. After having joined in 
Detroit, Ithaca, Memphis, and Chicago, I am now begin- 
ning to reap the reward. It seemed to me it was giving to 
something that was all right, but vague and far away. Now, 
I have found it right at home. They have estabHshed a 
Red Cross restaurant on the field, where hot and wholesome 
food can be had. You cannot imagine what a God-send 
it is to us. Although we have been able to get coffee, no 
other form of hot stuff could be had. Now, we get coffee, 
pork chops, eggs, frankfurters and hamburgers, clean cooked 
and served. Once a week, too, the best girls of Chicago 
wait on the table. The rest of the time, we just grab. 

I had a fine visit from Pat the other day. I was bend- 
ing busily over a machine and doing a mechanic's work, 
when I heard his familiar voice. It was not a very inter- 
esting day, as the advanced men were all off on a cross- 
country flight to Joliet. However, I could show him six 
or seven machines in sight in the air. 

We have word from Captain Royce that he is safe in 
France. He is the head of the first American Aerial Squad- 
ron to be sent to the front — we understand that the Ameri- 
can Esquadrille was the first to carry the flag. He is 
stationed near Paris. He is a fine ofiicer, and I believe we 
will hear great things of him. Our other commanding 
officer. Captain Christy, will be married next Saturday, and 
I am afraid we will lose him. 

At last the government has done something real for our 
branch of the service. Yesterday, the President endorsed 
the plan of making a $600,000,000.00 appropriation, and we 



OVE R H E R E 27 



are interested and wondering whether the bill to create a 
Cabinet member for aviation will pass. 

You cannot imagine how much better I have been satisfied 
since your letter came stating so fully your feelings with 
respect to this branch of the service. It is a delight to 
know your attitude, and it will be an inspiration to me. 
I feel sure that it is a most important branch of war service, 
and under the new conditions, will be the great factor in 
bringing this conflict to a close in favor of the Allies; but we 
must act before it is too late. 

The news from the English front is again encouraging. 
It cannot be that the Russian people will be fooled by the 
German peace move. On the other hand, it is ominous 
that the submarine danger is again critical. I note that 
last week was the worst week yet from this menace. 

Mes compliments to the boys, my French-Canadian 
friends. Good luck. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
AsHBURN, III., 
June 24, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

Saturday ended by far the best week yet of my training. 
The good weather brought new life to everybody. We now 
have practically all of the planes set up and in. running 
order. In addition to our forty-eight machines, there are 
six private aeroplanes. I have been able to get eleven 



28 A Happy Warrior 

flights since last Monday, and in that many one can ac- 
complish a good deal. I have become perfectly accustomed 
to the new and rather pleasant sensations, and yet the 
various flying movements seem as strange and unnatural 
as ever. On this account, I sometimes feel discouraged, 
but they tell me the faculty comes to you over night. At 
any rate I am pinning my faith on this. 

The landings still look impossible to me, but as I have 
not tried to make any yet, it is no wonder. 

Saturday night was my turn on guard again, and it was 
nasty as usual. It is very cold, and no provision made for 
comfort. Last night two other boys and myself found 
three blankets and a couple of cots which we set up in 
headquarters. Only one had to be on guard, so the other 
two slept. Headquarters, however, is a galvanized steel 
building, which seems to lower its temperature a lap ahead 
of the weather. Early in the evening, it was comfortable. 
Towards morning it became unbearable. We left it and 
resorted to a bonfire about four in the morning, and slept 
no more. The cold wind murdered sleep. At six o'clock 
we woke up our new faithful Red Cross chef and demanded 
hot coffee. We told him it was a medicinal necessity to 
ward off an attack of grippe. I do not quite understand 
why we have to take this taste of the hardship of warfare. 
It is a duty performed by the infantry when the real time 
comes, but I suppose that our branch of the service must be 
fit to do any military work required, and that is the spirit 
in which we are fitting ourselves. Just now, if a fixed camp 
were established here, and barracks built, there would be a 



OverHere 29 



company of regulars quartered with us who would relieve 
us of a great deal of this disagreeable work, and give us 
more time to fly. Big changes in this respect, we under- 
stand, may be made within the next two weeks. 

We have had an interesting case of discipline. A reg- 
ular private was ordered to guard duty to fill the place of a 
reserve who had been excused by a petty officer. This, we 
are told, is against army regulations, as only the command- 
ing officer can excuse a man. The private, therefore, re- 
fused to stand guard, and talked back to the petty officer. 
He was thereupon reported and court-martialed for re- 
fusing to do guard duty and insulting a superior officer. On 
being called to headquarters, he declined the summary 
court, and demanded general court-martial. The regulars 
think the man is a martyr, and that there is discrimination 
in favor of the reserves. While there is little chance of 
saving this private, they hope to get the post upon a more 
strictly military basis, where such discrimination cannot 
occur. To a certain group of the reserves, this will come 
as a hard blow, because some of them have been favored. 
My sympathy is entirely with the regulars, and I hope they 
will be successful. Some of the officers have apparently 
punched a hole in a hornet's nest. 

Your fine box of fruit came today, with enough good 
things in it to support a large camping party for a week. 
My digestion is surely all right. After a hard, dirty day, 
two of us tonight took a bath, and then climbed at once into 
bed and ate a couple of melons and a liberal supply of 
cheese sandwiches, and felt the better for it. The cheese 



30 A Happy Warrior 

tasted like the fine one we had on the Petit Pabos. How 
we used to gouge out chunks after each meal and wash them 
down with Mr. Davis's champagne cider, which he used to 
claim was just as good as champagne, even if he never got 
anybody to agree with him. 

We have no recreation here. In the evening, on return- 
ing from the field, we stop in a little cafeteria and have a 
light supper (it is not en regie to wash), then straight to bed. 
We have to rise at 4:45 every morning except Sunday in 
order to make train connections, and answer roll call at 
7:15 at the hangars, which are a mile and a quarter from 
the station. 

A taste of the Petit Pabos salmon would be appetizing 
if you will send one to this bunch of flyers. I am sure they 
would cook it for us right at our hotel. The chef has been 
very obliging. 

Thanks once more for the overflowing box, and if you 
send another, will thank you again. 

Good luck, bon fortune, au revoir. Regards to Francois 
and the other boys. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 

AsHBURN, III., 

June 29, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

The delightful weather of last week did not last. This 
week it has gone to the other extreme. Monday was the 



OVE R H E R E 31 



only day I could make a flight. The rest of the time the 
rain has beaten down, and the field is practically lost to the 
eye under four inches of water. 

Shortly after my flight Monday, all flying was stopped on 
account of a nasty accident to one of the solo men, who es- 
caped miraculously from a wreck in a tail spin. This is a 
form of accident which a novice aviator must always guard 
against. It is usually the result of carelessness or a mo- 
ment's forgetfulness. From the minute you first begin in- 
struction, you are warned about it, and told how to keep 
out of it. A "tail spin," as it is called, is caused from losing 
headway. It results from two factors — failing to nose the 
machine down on the turns, and failing to keep the direc- 
tion of the wind clearly in mind. On making a turn, if you 
do not nose the machine towards the ground, you necessarily 
lose such headway that the plane becomes uncontrollable. 
The nose will drop on account of the weight of the motor, 
throwing the tail into the air. If the wind is coming from 
a side direction, it will strike the plane, whirling the tail, 
and tend to spin it around the nose as an axis. Your only 
chance to gain control is to head to the ground with the 
motor off and the rudder held against the wind until you 
gain sufficient headway to get control once more of the ma- 
chine. If you are at an altitude of over five hundred feet, 
your safety is assured, otherwise a wreck is imminent. This 
boy kept his head remarkably well, and never ceased fighting 
to gain control. When they got him out of the wreckage 
with only a couple of minor cuts on his face and a bad shak- 
ing up, they went over every part of his machine. It was 



32 A Happy Warrior 

badly smashed, but the controls were all in good condition. 
He fell about two hundred feet, and in that small space of 
time he had removed his glass goggles, unfastened his safety- 
belt, throttled the motor, and shut off the spark — the four 
things he should have done. As I said, after this accident, 
all flying was called off for the rest of that day, and for the 
remainder of the week, it has poured rain. 

Another rather unfortunate experience of a different kind 
has come to one of the boys, a nice fellow, this week. He 
entered just about the time I did, and it has been evident 
that flying did not appeal to him. All the time he struggled 
to overcome his aversion to the new sensations, but some- 
how, they were so unnatural to him that he failed to master 
his feelings. Wednesday, he went with tears in his eyes to 
headquarters, and after a long talk with the Captain, was 
released from the Aviation Corps. He was a brave enough 
fellow, and wanted to continue. This is the second case we 
have had. It seems that one's feelings are not controllable. 
You are either fascinated or dread it. 

Rumors are rife again that we are about to move to 
Rantoul, Illinois. No further word has been given out, but 
I think there is little doubt but that we will go within the 
next two or three weeks. If we do go there, we will have a 
taste of real army life, because it is an established army 
post, and we will live in barracks under strict military disci- 
pline. The flying field, near a village of about a thousand 
people, is practically finished. The ground is well drained, 
and the hangars and barracks, I understand, are already 
constructed. 



OVE R H E R E 33 



Tomorrow, we will have inspection here by a board 
of officers from Washington. Several members of the 
Royal Flying Corps of England and France will accompany 
them. 

During this rainy spell, all the planes have been put in 
good running condition, and the extra time consumed in 
putting a polish on, I suppose that you have heard that 
the Curtis Aeroplane Company has been reorganized and 
new equipment has been installed so that it is said they can 
make five thousand machines this year. 

The increase in the appropriation for aviation has re- 
ceived the O. K. of the President and the Secretaries of War 
and the Navy, and I take it will now be favorably acted 
upon by Congress. I suppose the War and Navy Depart- 
ments will not favor a separate Cabinet officer for aviation. 
It is such a novel and distinct branch of the service, and will 
play such a part in the determination of the war that I 
think its separate control will be adopted before the end. 

I have a postal card from Eleanor today, saying that the 
news from you was fifty salmon for the party in two days. 
This sounds as though last year with our great record may 
be a lean year in comparison. 

I am more and more interested in my work here, and 
would not change now to any other work or recreation, but 
I must admit that stories from the Little Pabos give me a 
longing. I am there with you in thought, and wish you 
good luck and a good rest. Write me all about it. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



34 A Happy Warrior 

Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
AsHBURN, III., 
July 5, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

I have just come back from the field after another cold 
night of guard duty. I hope it will be the last here. 

Saturday, we leave for Rantoul, where we will be sta- 
tioned in newly built barracks, and will have a company of 
infantry attached. Instead of wasting the time getting to 
and from the field, we will have the advantage of practicing 
in the still air of the mornings and evenings. It will give 
us three hours more of flying each day. Captain Spain and 
one of our flying instructors flew over there yesterday to 
make arrangements for us. It is a trip of one hundred and 
ten miles, and the journey each way was made in about an 
hour and a half. They say that there is no better flying 
field in the country. A concrete foundation, covering about 
forty acres, has been laid so that we will not have the trouble 
and danger of either starting or landing on the wet, soggy 
ground. 

Saturday noon, thirty-eight machines, each carrying two 
passengers, will rise at short intervals and fly to Rantoul in 
a line. It will be a novel movement in American army 
experience to transport a corps in this way. I think I will 
be permitted to be a passenger in one of the planes, Mr. 
Pond's, and if so, he will probably let me drive it all the way 
down. This will be considered extra time, and not marked 
against my instruction hours. The other ten machines will 
be torn down and shipped by freight. 

Barracks life will be new to me, but I feel sure it will be 



OVE R H E R E 35 



preferable to the haphazard way we have been Hving. It 
will save an hour or two's time in the morning, and instead 
of grabbing breakfast and rushing to a train, we can have a 
snappy setting up exercise and a peaceful breakfast after- 
wards, and so much the more flying; lunch at 11:30 — a 
thing we have not known here — will be served; one o'clock 
another roll call; two o'clock, an hour of drill; three to five, 
recitations in aero-dynamics, practical electricity, and 
meteorology; five to seven, two more hours of flying instead 
of a tramp or run to the junction and a ride on a freight 
train, and a scramble on a crowded trolley car — then supper 
and bunk (I mean bed, of course). Everything will be 
orderly and systematic under strict discipline. A new 
commanding officer, Captain Brown, I understand, will be 
in charge of the post, with three French aviation officers, 
who have just come over from the front. I had the good 
fortune to go in with them from the field today — Lieuten- 
ants Gauthier, Laffly and La Pier. The latter, I am told, 
has twenty-eight German planes to his credit. They will 
conduct the courses in military science of the air. One of 
the many interesting things I learned was that their fight- 
ing machines can travel at a speed of one hundred and fifty 
miles an hour, with a landing speed of ninety miles an hour. 
Contrast this with our maximum flying speed of eighty miles 
and a landing speed of forty miles. You will appreciate 
how little we will really know, even after we have received 
our complete instruction on this side. He told me, too, 
about Guynemer, the great aviator who has forty-nine 
German machines to his credit. He said that Guynemer, 



36 A Happy Warrior 

as an aviator, was only a mediocre flyer, and that his great 
success lay in his daring and remarkable marksmanship, 
often bringing down the enemy plane with one shot. 

Speaking about life over there, he said we would probably 
be quartered in some chateau or barracks, and be taken to 
and from the field in an automobile. Our fighting for the 
day would consist of two flights each morning and even- 
ing, except when specific orders were given to carry out 
reconnaissance work, or a bombing raid. It has been their 
custom, if one was fortunate enough to bring down an 
enemy plane, to allow a three days' leave. So far, the 
action of single planes has been left to the discretion of each 
aviator in fighting. Your own fancy and wish dictates. 
All this will, no doubt, soon be changed. 

Aunt Jennie has sent me a fine air pillow, enclosed in a 
light pig-skin case, with my initials on it. It will be very 
convenient. I have never seen anything like it. It came 
from Cousin Anne Hendrie from London. 

It was very thoughtful of Colonel Littebrant to write 
from Honolulu inviting me to join his Artillery unit, but 
please say to him that I am in aviation, and have not the 
slightest desire to retrace my steps. This is the life! 

If you have not already sent the salmon to me, do not do 
so. Send it to some married man who is keeping house. It 
is not convenient food for a single man in barracks. 

My next letter will be from Chanute Field, Rantoul. 

May the good luck keep up. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



OVE R H E R E 37 



Chanute Field, Rantoul, III., 
July 13, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

After working from seven until five on Saturday and Sun- 
day, we left for Rantoul at ten o'clock Monday morning. 
The aeroplanes started at five o'clock a. m. To my great 
disappointment, I did not get a chance to fly. It was a 
wonderful sight to watch the departure of the machines as 
they rose from the field at the early sunrise hour. One at a 
time, they circled their way up to an altitude of three thou- 
sand feet, and in a V formation, two minutes apart, struck 
south, following the Illinois Central tracks. The first 
machine covered the distance of one hundred and fourteen 
miles in eighty-six minutes, and the remaining machines 
dropped into the field at Rantoul within thirty-five minutes 
after the first. The entire trip was made without a single 
mishap with the exception of one machine, which was forced 
to land in Paxton for more gasoline. The aviator descended 
safely, replenished his supply, and covered the remaining 
distance without trouble. 

On account of the method of assignment, I missed my 
chance to ride. The instructors were first chosen as 
drivers. The solo men took the remaining planes, either 
as drivers or passenger mechanics — then the civilian me- 
chanics filled the remaining cars. Practically all the 
students were left out. 

My journey to Rantoul, however, was almost as great an 
experience, lacking the element of excitement. As I said, 
we were already to leave, with everything packed, and 



38 A Happy Warrior 

every man reported at ten o'clock sharp. At eleven o'clock 
the train pulled out in a rather hesitating way, and five 
hours later we were exactly nine miles away with empty 
stomachs. To encourage us, Sergeant Moore announced 
that at Kankakee, fifty miles away, we would stop fifteen 
minutes for refreshments. At 7:30 the train pulled into 
this Indian village, and you can imagine the scene when one 
hundred and fifty hungry fellows rushed into the small 
restaurant and demanded a combination lunch and dinner 
served in fifteen minutes. We ate, those of us who could 
get anything, whatever we could grab. It was eleven 
o'clock when we arrived at Rantoul, and there a real recep- 
tion was tendered. The entire town, some eleven hundred 
people, was at the station to welcome us with flags and a 
brass band. They seemed disappointed when the small and 
dirty troop alighted. We stood at attention with our suit- 
cases for side arms, and a tired, disheartened bunch marched 
to the field, about three-quarters of a mile away, and crowded 
into the barracks to have the first taste of army life. None 
was disappointed. We entered a large room, which pre- 
sumably would hold about seventy-five cots. It was 
equipped with about thirty, and fifteen blankets. I was 
among those who had neither, and we curled up in the 
corner on the floor. The day had been unbearably hot, but 
towards evening it turned colder and colder, until midnight, 
when it became almost frigid. The morning was very wel- 
come, and hungry and cold, we reported at reveille to find 
that we had to hunt breakfast where we could get it, and 
report back to unload the cars at 7:15. 



OVE R H E R E 39 



Fortunately, the Tenth Aerial Squadron had arrived 
several days before from San Antonio, Texas, and after our 
hasty breakfast, they helped us to unload the machinery 
and supplies. From now on, they will be our helpers, and 
new squadrons will be formed from our two. A squadron 
in aviation consists of one hundred and fifty men and twelve 
aviators. Our squadron will supply the aviators, and the 
Tenth will supply mechanics, guards and orderlies. They 
are fine, clean-cut, big fellows, and have been in training on 
the border for ten months. We thought at first the feeling 
would be rather strained, because they are subordinate to 
us, but all is fair weather when good fellows get together. 
Another bit of good news was that a company of militia is 
stationed at the post. 

To tell you something of the location and the barracks — 
the field is situated on the edge of a small town, about 
fourteen miles from Champaign, in the levelest of level 
country. For the purpose of a flying field, it cannot be 
surpassed, and although not quite complete, is in good 
condition for use. Seventeen hundred men have been 
working on it for seven weeks. On one side is a row of huge 
wooden hangars, each with a capacity of six aeroplanes. 
Behind the hangars is a row of sixteen very good new bar- 
racks, each with a good bathroom and shower. Behind the 
barracks are the mess halls still under construction, and next 
the officers' quarters. Scattered about are other buildings 
for Headquarters, Y. M. C. A., motor house, and repair 
houses. Excellent roads and paths wind in and out among 
the buildings, and the grounds beyond have been laid out. 



40 A Happy Warrior 

The buildings are all white, and mark the field from a long 
distance. It is an ideal location for concentrated instruc- 
tion and flying, and we will have far more flying hours than 
before. Seventy-two machines are expected within three 
weeks. I think we will be able to have instruction in any 
kind of weather. 

Eight of the more advanced students will get their com- 
missions next week. 

Our days here will be as thoroughly occupied as before, 
and to a greater advantage. At present the order is reveille 
at six o'clock, breakfast at 6:30, roll call at 7:15, and work 
until lunch, 11:30; at one o'clock, another roll call, and 
work, lectures, and flying until 5:30; supper at 5:45; re- 
treat at seven o'clock, and the ending of a perfect day at 
ten o'clock, when lights are out. When we are comfortably 
settled with beds and blankets, and the mess hall is finished, 
all will be well, and it will be as good and healthy a life as 
one can wish for. This will give you a notion of what my 
first military existence is. It is rumored that we are the 
last reserves in this corps, and that we will be transferred 
into the regulars when we receive our commissions. 

Your letters from the Petit Pabos sound better than 
ever — and I would almost trade my experience for two 
weeks in camp with you. You certainly have had wonder- 
ful fishing. Do not think that I am having a hard life. 
I am happy and contented, and the thought of the service 
aviators can render keeps me cheerful. A fellow cannot 
help, however, but envy you on that Canadian stream, and 
after it on the sea shore at Cape Cod. 



OVE R H E R E 41 



Hoping I will be able to visit you there before the summer 
is over, I am, 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
July 15, 1917. 
Dear Cousin Anne — 

It was a pleasant surprise when your nice pillow from 
London was forwarded to me by Aunt Jennie, and I cannot 
express my appreciation enough for your remembrance. It 
will be most convenient in barracks where one is fortunate 
even to have a cot and blankets in our unsettled and un- 
finished condition. 

You can readily imagine that the declaration of war by 
the United States was not unexpected, and some time before 
Christmas, I began preparing for it in a very quiet way. 
On returning to college after Christmas, I arranged with the 
faculty of the University in regard to my degree, which 
would, in the ordinary course, only have been given at 
graduation in June. When I was assured that it would be 
given in my absence, I filed an application with the Aviation 
Section of the Officers Signal Reserve Corps. Having done 
this, the most difficult part of the task lay before me, 
namely, gaining the permission of father to enter the 
Aviation Service. 

Easter brought the entry of the United States into the 
war, and moments of anxiety came. At this time, father 



42 A Happy Warrior 

met me in New York, and I laid before him my plans and 
told him then, for the first time, what I had done. He 
hesitated for only a few minutes — the news seemed to 
strike him like a blow — but he answered as one would 
expect, that it was a grave problem, and every boy who was 
fit should decide for himself. My mind was set, and that 
evening we went to Washington, where the necessary 
examinations were passed, and I was enlisted. I returned 
to college for two days, and then went by way of Detroit 
directly to Memphis, Tennessee, where my aviation training 
started, on April 26. 

You may be interested in our methods of training. You 
are set directly to flying after the first day, when you 
ascend for a ride to accustom yourself to the new sensa- 
tions. This is called the "joy ride." From then on, unless 
there is some natural defect or personal characteristic which 
prevents, the controls are given over to you, and you drive 
the machine under the guidance and aid of another set of 
controls operated from the rear seat. On becoming more 
proficient, you are put in the rear seat, and later you are 
sent up alone to do solo work. After twenty hours of solo 
work, you are allowed to undertake your flying tests for a 
commission. Then you are sent to France or England to 
have another month of instruction on high-powered ma- 
chines. I am just about to be turned loose; that is, to 
begin solo work. If we have good flying weather, it will 
require about five weeks more training in this country. 

Our day's work is well laid out for us, and we have little 
time for recreation. We rise at 5 :45 in the morning, have a 



OVE R H E R E 43 



good setting-up exercise, and a fair breakfast, then we are 
set directly to work with the machine crew. Six fellows 
have charge of the upkeep of two machines. When your 
turn to make a flight comes, an orderly notifies you, and you 
take half an hour in the air. At eleven and twelve o'clock 
you report for classes in aero-dynamics and practical 
electricity. Noon mess is usually a light meal. In the 
afternoon, we have military drill, class in meteorology, and 
the remaining time in the motor room where we tear down 
and assemble motors. The evening is usually spent in 
study, preparing for the final examinations by which our 
commissions will be ranked to a certain extent. The work 
of the Administration in this branch of the service, it seems 
to us, cannot be commended too highly. Business men 
have offered their services freely and willingly to aid the 
production end of aviation in the most efficient manner. 
Many aeroplanes are being turned out, and training schools, 
fully equipped, have sprung up in six weeks' time. Judging 
from this school, the class of boys who are enlisting in this 
branch of the service is fine. I feel confident that 
the aviation service will quickly respond to the war's 
demands. 

I am so much interested in the work here that I would do 
nothing to delay my commission, or retard getting to the 
front for active service, but must confess that I rather envy 
father at present. He is at his wonderful salmon river in 
northern Canada. Another record fishing season seems to 
have given him the vigor of youth. He wrote me that he 
had a fine visit with Mr. and Mrs. Braithwaite in Montreal 



44 A Happy Warrior 

and I am sure that he and my sisters will join me in re- 
membrance to you. 

Your affectionate cousin, 

William M. Russel. 
To Miss Anne M. Hendrie, 
Bank of Montreal, 
Threadneedle Street, 
London, England. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
July 20, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

The hard times seem to have passed, and things have 
quickly rounded into shape. On the fourth day, our 
blankets, mattresses and beds arrived, and on the following 
day, even greater luxuries came. We were ordered to re- 
port at the Quartermaster's without notice for what pur- 
pose, and there, to our surprise, received sheets and pillows. 
A very essential thing, however, namely, food, is not yet 
conveniently provided. The announcement that the mess 
hall would open last Monday was welcomed with great 
acclaim, but it would have been better if the doors of the 
temple had remained closed. The service is so new that it 
does not meet the demand, and lead poisoning arising from 
the new plumbing has spoiled the water and interfered with 
the cooking. Ten of the boys are laid up in the hospital at 
Champaign, three of them quite sick. 

Flying is progressing better than at either of our former 
fields. Monday, we resumed systematic flying, and the 



OVE R H E R E 45 



weather has been ideal until today, when it was very rough. 
I have been able to get my thirty minutes each day, and 
really begin to feel like a regular aviator, even if I do place 
a lot of faith in that young man in the front seat who can 
set me right if I go wrong. It seems, sometimes, as though 
I would be lost without him. They tell me that you never 
get real confidence until you have made some solo flights. 

Today was a Jonah for us. In the afternoon, ten of the 
more advanced students tried their Reserve Military 
Aviator tests, with some disappointing results. Nervous, 
but determined, they all started off brilliantly. The first 
test was to climb to an altitude of four thousand feet, and 
remain there forty-five minutes, then descend into the field 
and land within one hundred and fifty feet of a designated 
stake. 

The first, in descending, misjudged his distance, rolled by 
the pylon, and bumped into another machine. The Cap- 
tain was wrought up, and he had hardly turned away from 
the wreck when the second machine crashed head-on into a 
pile of lumber. The boy's head was thrown forward, hit- 
ting the cowl, and he was badly bruised about the face. A 
remarkable incident of the accident was that he did not 
have time to remove his goggles, and when his head was 
thrown forward, they struck the celluloid wind shield, and 
were broken. Just before going up, he borrowed a pair of 
triplex glasses from one of the other boys. The glass in 
the goggles was cracked into a million sections, and not a 
particle splintered. This triplex glass is a safety device 
either of mica compound or glass between thin strips of 



46 A Happy Warrior 

mica. If you can find a pair in Detroit, Boston, or New 
York, please buy them for me. They are quite expensive, 
and, I understand, nearly all in this country have been sold. 
Get a large field of vision — the small ones are not useful. I 
am enclosing a sketch of the best size and shape. 

Now for more trouble. Not fifteen minutes later, two 
machines came down, and nosed over, breaking the pro- 
pellers. This is caused by the wheels sticking in the mud 
or a rut, which throws the tail up and tips the propeller into 
the ground. Usually nothing more serious happens than 
to put the machine out of commission for a while. 

Yesterday, our corps was increased by the transfer of 
eighteen very fine fellows from the winter school at Miami, 
Florida. 

An order came today, directing ten of the young men here 
to report in New York within twenty-four hours, to sail for 
France. They seem to have picked the men at random, 
and we cannot understand how it was done. It has 
caused great discussion, and we cannot surmise who will be 
called next. It was not the especially good flyers, mechanics 
or leaders who were chosen. 

The two French officers who have been stationed here 
are both fine and interesting fellows. They think that our 
machines, the Curtis, J. N. 4 B., are the best training ma- 
chines they have seen, and say that when we go to Europe 
we will have to learn how to fly four different types of ma- 
chines, including the monoplanes. They have not yet be- 
come accustomed to flying our machines, and they have 
given very little exhibition flying. I spoke to Maury about 



OVE R H E R E 47 



Colonel Littebrant's kind suggestion of positions in his regi- 
ment. It might be a great opportunity for some of the 
boys, but we feel very well satisfied with our chance to be- 
come aviators. Maury's mother used to be a dear friend 
of Mrs. Littebrant's in St. Louis, and Maury thought his 
brother Walker might be interested. If he is, I will let you 
know by telegram within a couple of days. 

We have been ordered to wear uniforms all the time now, 
so I will send my civilian clothes home. Maury has gone 
home for a visit. 

Even if I could get away, I feel that I could not leave 
without hindering my instruction and progress, but longing 
to see you, I am, 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
July 23, 1917. 
Dear Christine — 

No wonder you could not locate me. We are very much 
buried in this little town in Illinois. 

It was rumored, but not definitely known, that we were 
leaving Ashburn, until just before an order came to set the 
machines in perfect condition to be prepared to fly to Ran- 
toul at five o'clock next morning. Everyone wanted to 
take an aeroplane, or go as a pilot, but hopes were shattered 
when word came that only instructors and advanced 
students should fly, and that each should be accompanied 



48 A Happy Warrior 

by a mechanic. It would have been quite an experience, 
as well as good training, to fly cross-country for one hun- 
dred and fourteen miles. It was a wonderful sight to watch 
the twenty-five machines, in the early morning, circle out of 
the field, one closely following the other, to an altitude of 
three thousand feet, and then strike south. They averaged 
about eighty miles an hour, and dropped into the field at 
Rantoul in the same order. One machine only, driven by 
Mr. Pond, my new instructor, was forced to land in the 
town of Kankakee for gasoline. In starting his motor 
again, the mechanic did not get out of the way of the pro- 
peller quickly enough, and was slightly hurt. Aside from 
this small accident, the trip was made with a clean record. 
The trip, for the rest of us, however, was not so pleasant. 
We left Ashburn about 10:30 in the morning, and wandered 
over the tracks at a slow pace, covering the hundred miles 
by 10:30 in the evening, with practically nothing to eat all 
day. In a hot, stuffy coach, you can imagine how happy 
and congenial the crowd was when at last we ran into Ran- 
toul. Even the reception which awaited us — the entire 
town assembled in Sunday clothes, ginghams and overalls, 
with a band of music, waving flags, and a kind greeting 
from everyone, old and young — did not cheer us into 
amiability. We were immediately ordered to march to the 
field and the new barracks. After a long walk through the 
mud, we were halted before a low, white building, which, in 
the night, looked like a bowling alley, and told that these 
were our future quarters. A rush for bed followed, but to 
our dismay, there were only thirty beds and a few blankets 



OVE R H E R E 49 



for eighty tired men. Morning was welcome, and every- 
one was up at early daybreak for a change. Getting up 
was a rest for aching bones. No breakfast could be served 
because the mess hall was not finished, and we were told to 
subsist on the country. This was difficult, because there 
was then nothing like a restaurant in the little town, and 
the farmers being all well-to-do, as they said, did not have 
to take boarders. It was nearly four days before cots, 
blankets and convenient food were to be had. Since then> 
life has been bearable, but the comforts of home seem like a 
dream. 

But the purpose of coming here, namely, flying, has been 
well met. The weather has been ideal, and great progress 
has been made. I have had a thirty minute flight every 
day. The training has been slow on account of frequent 
removals, but at last I am getting to the end of my pre- 
liminary instruction. For the past few days I have been 
working on landings, which is the final step. Next, solo 
work, or flying alone, begins in preparation for the Reserve 
Military Aviator tests. If these are passed, my commission 
follows automatically. 

The work becomes more fascinating each day, and as in- 
struction continues, you realize that flying is a science with 
something more always to learn. A person can easily learn 
enough in one week to fly in the air, but without more ex- 
perience, he would lose his confidence and have an accident 
at a critical moment. This has been evident during the last 
few days. Many of the boys became impatient, and in- 
duced their instructors to turn them loose for solo work. 



50 A Happy Warrior 

Friday, we had four accidents, none of them serious, but the 
machines were wrecked and the boys pretty well bruised 
up — all due to ignorance and inexperience in the pinches. 
Then Saturday, one of my room-mates in Chicago was sure 
he could make a good landing. The controls were turned 
over to him by the instructor, and when he came down he 
was sailing against the wind at an air speed of about 
seventy miles an hour — that is, going at the rate of fifty 
miles against a wind of twenty. In flying, you calculate 
your speed with the air and not the ground, as it is the 
pressure against the wings which does the lifting. So 
when he rounded the last turn to alight in the field, the 
twenty miles wind pressure was taken away, because he 
was then flying with the wind, and not against it, and the 
air speed was reduced to not more than forty miles an hour, 
which is below the necessary minimum. The machine 
went into a tail spin at an altitude of about 200 feet, and 
crashed to the ground. Both occupants were taken from 
the plane and given up for dead. On examination, how- 
ever, to our great joy, they were found to be badly cut and 
their noses broken and faces disfigured, but luckily 
without permanent serious injuries, although the machine 
was a total wreck. 

I wish I could explain some of the ways of getting into 
a tail spin, but am too young in the art yet, and it is diffi- 
cult for me to describe it. Even with a perfect machine, it 
is only one of many dangerous situations which may come 
at any minute. A flyer must know how to avoid them if 
possible, and to counteract them if necessary. 



OVE R H ER E 51 



A fine letter from father came, which gave me mingled 
joy and grief. His description of life on the Petit Pabos 
brought the camp and river here. I could see the salmon 
and hear the waters. It sounds too good to be true. He 
has had another great year, with a new record catch in 
numbers and size. I have delightful plans in mind, but can 
only hope they will be realized. If I become a successful 
solo flyer, I will ask for ten days' leave and visit father on 
Cape Cod. I am also thinking of asking for a transfer to 
the Aerial Squadron at Detroit — that is, Mt. Clemens. It 
is possible, being an advanced student, that at a new school, 
I may get a better commission. These are the castles in 
the air which I am building. The only work done so far 
has been to talk over the plans and specifications with 
Captain Spain. 

Your meeting the twelve aeronauts sent over by the 
French government is rather a coincidence. Two of them, 
Lieutenants Prevot and Laffiy, are stationed here, and I 
have become very well acquainted with them. They are 
interesting men, as you say, and good fellows as well. 

The Loon Lake pictures which you sent make me envious. 
This is a better flying country, however, and not being sum- 
mer visitors, suits our purposes better than your attractive 
scenery. 

Love to Allen and all the kids. 

Your affectionate brother, 

William. 



To Mrs. Allen F. Edwards, 
Detroit, Mich. 



52 A Happy Warrior 

Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
July 26, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

Again, we have had hard luck. Another serious accident 
happened Saturday, but the two occupants escaped miracu- 
lously well. Evans Baxter, my former room-mate at 
Chicago, and his instructor were the unfortunates. It was 
a case of the same old tail spin too near the ground. They 
were dropping down into the field from a high altitude on a 
long glide, and lost too much headway. About two hundred 
and fifty feet from the ground, the wind caught the tail of 
the machine and spun it around. Both kept their heads 
remarkably well, and if they had had fifteen feet more in 
which to drop, they would have avoided the smash. They 
straightened out just enough to break the fall, and when 
they collided with the ground, their life belts held their 
bodies firm, but their heads were thrown forward against the 
cowl. Both faces cut and disfigured and one nose broken 
was the score. 

Then the day following, the worst of our accidents hap- 
pened, and it was on the ground. Our little mail boy, rid- 
ing his motorcycle down for the mail, was struck by an 
automobile at a side street. His leg was so badly crushed 
that they were unable to get any impulse, and it was neces- 
sary to amputate below the knee. These accidents have 
been the main topic of our conversation, and so they are 
the first things in my mind as I write you. 

Everything has not been unpleasant, however. We have 
had much to brighten us. In the first place, our mess has 



OVE R H E R E 53 



been improved, and under the last war act, our pay as flying 
sergeants has been increased from forty-four dollars to one 
hundred dollars a month, beginning August 1st, and our 
allowance for rations, from thirty-five cents to seventy-five 
cents a day. We were the last of the Reserve Army to 
receive this increased pay. It seems peculiar that the 
Aviation Corps is the last, when all of us who pass the tests 
are sure to receive commissions. In the other branches, 
commissions may or may not follow. 

More good news was the coming of ten new Curtis planes 
yesterday. This will give us a chance for more instruction, 
which, however, is progressing rapidly now. I have reached 
the step where I am making landings. This is a difficult part 
of flying, and to a considerable extent, the phase by which 
you are judged. It is no easy thing for me yet, but I am 
sure I will soon get the knack of it. My instructor said 
yesterday that my air work was tip-top, and that I was 
coming on with the landings. Tuesday and Wednesday, I 
practiced gliding into the field from an altitude of two thou- 
sand feet. That was easy, but when we got about one 
hundred and fifty feet from the ground, he would take the 
control and make the landings. I would then ascend, and 
we would do the same thing over and over again. The 
purpose of this is to practice your spirals so that you will 
enter the field from the right side and always against the 
wind. 

I ran out of funds quite suddenly the other day — not 
from any loss, however. It was before the mess had im- 
proved, and I was buying and paying for each meal. I have 



54 A Happy Warrior 

not had time to write, because there has been so much work 
on the machines for inspection. 

I have at last had an aeroplane put under my supervision, 
for which I am wholly responsible, and which is also my own 
instruction machine. This puts an incentive up to you for 
careful work, as your neck depends upon your own dili- 
gence. 

A package has just come from Aunt Jennie and Aunt 
Chris, containing knitted helmets, which I am told will be 
very necessary when the weather becomes colder. I have 
never worn a knitted one yet, and it does not seem at pres- 
ent that I would ever want one. The weather is roasting, 
and we have to work all day in the broiling sun with heavy 
flannels and woolen shirts, the only wear for soldiers. We 
have to be in uniform always now. 

I had a fine letter from Christine a couple of days ago, 
teUing all about her cottage at Loon Lake, and enclosing 
pictures of the beautiful country. It is certainly more at- 
tractive than Rantoul, but I could not see that there were 
any streams there, and if I cannot get fishing, I will take 
flying, and I think now that I am beginning to prefer soar- 
ing to wading. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



OVE R H E R E 55 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
August 1, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

The last few days have been exceptionally busy and ter- 
ribly hot. 

My flight today is last on the list, and my machine is 
running like a bird, so that I have a few minutes for a 
breathing spell and retreat from the burning sun. Monday 
morning, when I began instruction, we had a very poor ma- 
chine, and the air was rough. I have told you accidents 
usually occur if you lose headway near the ground, either 
on the first turn in ascending, or the last turn in descending. 
The predicament we were in Monday was a perfect setting 
for such trouble. In climbing from the field with a motor 
which was not working too well, we could not get enough 
altitude, and had to take the first turn when only seventy- 
five feet in the air. Mr. Pond, my instructor, was watchful, 
as he always is, and grasped the situation and took the con- 
trols from me, and dropped into the field with the wind, 
something that is never done except in emergencies. We 
landed all right, but he refused to go up again until the 
machine was fixed. I worked on it for more than two 
hours — changed the propeller and some other minor 
things — and then called Mr. Pond. He then tried it alone, 
but found it unsatisfactory, and condemned it. This put 
me to work for the day. It meant that the entire motor 
had to be removed from the fuselage, and another set in. 
Allen Wardie and I tackled the job, and we have since been 
working and sweating steadily — Monday night until eight 



56 A Happy Warrior 

o'clock, and last night until nine. This morning, we tried 
her out, and found her satisfactory. She will turn over 
thirteen hundred and twenty-five revolutions a minute — 
twenty-five more than the mark. This, of course, is on the 
ground. In the air, she will turn over about one hundred 
better. 

Mr. Pond is a very conservative instructor. He has a 
method of teaching which is different from the others, and 
I am becoming convinced that he is right, although at first, 
I envied some of the other boys their more daring teachers. 
The common way of instructing is to give four or five lessons 
in air work, right and left turns, and straight flying; then 
start immediately upon landings, and having accomplished 
this, turn you loose. In this course, you seem to be making 
very rapid progress. Mr. Pond, on the other hand, gives 
you twenty-five or thirty lessons in air work. He claims 
that landings then come naturally to you. You are 
judged in your progress, however, by the other students, 
according to the number of lessons you have had in land- 
ings, and when you say you have had none, they think you 
are not getting ahead. I felt this way until I had a long 
talk with Mr. Pond, and have reasoned out the matter. Up 
to now, I have had twenty-two lessons in the air on right 
and left turns, and in gliding. He says that my work has 
been good, and that he would start me on landings this 
morning. If I catch on all right, I have great hopes of 
doing solo work by the end of next week if we have good 
weather. I am looking forward to it with delight. 

Bob Townes drove me over to Chicago for Sunday in his 



OVE R H E R E 57 



auto. Regular beds, hotel meals, and above all, a hot 
bath, which as yet is a luxury in Rantoul, made the trip 
worth while. In the evening, we went to the South Shore 
Country Club, and had a regular swim in Lake Michigan ; 
just think of it! Sunday, also, I had a happy time with 
Bill Davidson. He is in the artillery at Fort Sheridan. 

While we were away, another dreadful accident happened, 
which put a deep gloom over the post. A fine young fellow , 
named Mitchell, assigned to the Tenth Squadron, also 
stationed here, tried to jump a freight to ride over to 
Champaign. His foot slipped, and he went under the 
moving train and was instantly killed. There was a mili- 
tary funeral yesterday. The squadron marched to the 
train with the body, which was sent to Texas, the boy's 
home. 

The little mail boy, now one-legged, is getting along well. 

Here we are, at an aviation school, and the only two acci- 
dents resulting in the loss of life or limb thus far have been 
automobile and railroad casualties. 

The first seven students turned out from this school have 
been placed on the instructing staff. They were given 
their commissions, and each has a class. Whether a sim- 
ilar fate shall fall to our lot, I do not know. While this fly- 
ing game is most attractive to me, I have never wanted to 
be an instructor. The plan seems to be to split the stu- 
dents here into bunches — some are assigned to instruction — 
some to Fort Wood, from whence, we understand, they will 
be sent directly to France for further instruction. It is pos- 
sible, after such advanced course, that they will be recalled 



58 A Happy Warrior 

to instruct in this country. In enlisting now, we learn 
that they wish to know whether one wants to go into the 
army or in the Lafayette Esquadrille. In the latter, I 
think a boy will get immediate service. 

I feel sure that it will be impossible for me to visit you at 
Osterville. It is not easy to get a leave, and at the present 
stage, I do not want to miss an hour's practice. I will see 
you surely, however, in September in Detroit. 

What have you thought about my trying to get a trans- 
fer to Mt. Clemens so as to be near home? In a week, my 
instruction will be finished, and then it simply means that 
I spend so much time in the air until I can take the R. M. A. 
tests, when I will be assigned to service for which I am 
anxiously waiting. 

Advise me about the transfer. Give my love to all. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
August 5, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

The heat for the last few days has simply burned up this 
flat, dry country. It has been necessary for me to remain 
in the field under the broiling sun practically all day long in 
order to keep the record of the flights, and to see that the 
machines are filled with gasoline and in running order. This 
gave me headaches at first, and just as I was beginning to 
become accustomed to it, we adopted a new plan. We 



OVE R H E R E 59 



asked Mr. Pond if he would not instruct the men on land- 
ings early in the morning so we could have the benefit of the 
cool, still air. After some discussion, he assented, so now, 
Bill Goulding, Allen Wardle and I drive down in Bill's car 
and pick him up for breakfast and return to the field for 
flying at 5:30 in the morning. With this early start, we 
are able to finish before the hot noon sun, and have more 
time to work on the machines in the shade before the 
flights begin at 1 :30 for the solo men. 

I have come to the conclusion that making a landing is 
the trick of flying. Last week, I would willingly have taken 
up a machine alone, with the expectation of having a pleas- 
ant trip and an easy finish, but this week, I would not touch 
one. My first lessons in landing, I am frank to say, scared 
me considerably. My instructions were to sit back with 
my hands off the control and watch every move. Next, I 
was to handle the controls myself. I rose from the ground, 
circled the field, and endeavored to drop in from the same 
side from which I left, so as to be continually against the 
wind. The sensation of having the ground rushing by you, 
as well as rapidly approaching you, tends to make you 
somewhat dizzy at first. I brought her down within about 
fifty feet of the ground, and then gave up. Mr. Pond 
landed her that time. Then I made another attempt. 
This time, it was not a good landing, but I felt a little more 
at ease. It becomes more and more natural, and at last a 
mere incident of the flying. The trick lies in attempting to 
judge your altitude and the length of the glide in order to 
land at a certain spot. I am catching on and if good weather 



60 A Happy Warrior 

continues, have great hopes of soloing by the end of next 
week. It remains for me to judge my distances better and 
perfect the touch on the earth. My landings, as yet, are 
rather erratic. 

Yesterday afternoon, we had a leave, and started for 
Champaign, but, by the time we had walked to the inter- 
urban station, we were so hot that we gave up the trip, and 
went to the Rantoul cafeteria and had a refrigerator lunch. 
The menu was luxurious for us — iced tea, cold sliced peaches 
and ice cream ad lib. M. E. Carter then took us to his 
house — the Carters have taken one in Rantoul — and we 
played bridge all the afternoon with a flagon of ice cold 
lemonade kept full to the brim within reach. Thus, we 
managed to survive the heat. 

Today, Maury and I got up early and had breakfast in 
the restaurant, and read the morning papers, where the big 
electric fan cools the air. 

The news from Russia looks bad once more, with the 
resignation of Kerensky. We had begun to pin our faith 
and hope on him. 

You don't say anything about my transfer to Detroit. 
I would like to leave Rantoul and its warmth if possible, but 
have not said anything to Major Dunworth, as I felt 
that you might not approve the change. 

Although we were fortunate here in being exempt, last 
week seemed to be another period of accidents. At Mine- 
ola, a student and an instructor were killed; at Bay Shore, 
two were killed; and in West Virginia, a student was killed. 
It is peculiar the way these accidents come in groups. The 



OVE R H E R E 61 



nearest we came to trouble was that two machines, through 
carelessness, rose from the ground about the same time, and 
nearly collided. We have had warning and strict injunc- 
tion to avoid this, and I think it is not likely to happen 
again here. 

There was an order given out today that no one can have 
a pass to leave for more than twenty-four hours, so I am 
afraid that this will surely cut out my chances to visit 
Osterville. 

Hoping you are as well as I am, but cooler, I remain, 
Your loving son, 

William. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
August 11, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

At last I am a regular aviator. I realized it with surprise 
and some nervousness. 

Wednesday, I was placed in the back seat and told to 
continue my instruction in making landings. Every one I 
made was poor. The slump stayed with me until Friday. 
I "pan-caked" as they call it, every time. At a height of 
about two hundred feet, you throttle down your motor. 
This tips the front part of the machine down, and causes 
you to glide. Once in a gliding position, it is necessary to 
hold the front end up, or she will dive too rapidly. You 
continue your glide earthward until you get within about 
thirty feet of the ground, when you steepen your glide in 



62 A Happy Warrior 

order to obtain more speed. This is the difficult part of 
landing, because you become nervous, and the natural 
tendency is to level off too high from the ground. The 
steep glide should be held until you are very close to the 
ground — then you level out and hold her in the air as long 
as possible until she settles to the earth. In the few days, 
while I was in my slump, on getting near to the ground, I 
would get nervous and level off about ten feet from the 
earth, and then, when I lost speed, I would drop to the 
ground with a bump. Friday, I broke the wing-skid and 
blew the right tire in a careless landing, I pan-caked, 
and was lifted back into the air from the heavy bump. The 
wind got under my left wing, and threw me over on my 
right side, and broke the tire and skid. It was not very 
serious, but caused half an hour's delay, and deprived me 
of that much practice. Yesterday, however, I was de- 
termined to make good. I headed the list, and got the 
benefit of the still early morning air. My first landing was 
poor, and my instructor had to help me with it. The next 
three, however, were beauties. I did them all alone, and 
set the machine on the ground like a basket of eggs. With- 
out another word said, Mr. Pond stepped out of the front 
seat, lifted the tail around so as to point the nose of the 
machine to the wind, and said, "Go ahead, Russel, let's see 
you take her up alone." Never before had I missed com- 
pany so much, but my chance had come at last, so I gave 
her all the throttle, and started. Taking her off the 
ground was simple enough, and the air work was even more 
so, and I felt no worry except for the lack of companionship. 



OVE R H E R E 63 



At first, it seemed awful to be alone in the wide, wide sky. 
I thought of the Ancient Mariner, which I used to hate so in 
the Detroit University School because I had to study it: 
"So lonesome 'twas that God Himself scarce seemed there 
to be." When I approached the spot where I had to start 
my glide for the ground, the nervousness returned. Before, 
when I was in this situation, I would merely throw up my 
hands, and Mr. Pond would bring her down; but here I was, 
about three hundred feet high, and no way to bring her 
down except to do it myself. My involuntary prayer was, 
"Why did you let Mr. Pond lie to me. Oh Lord, and tell 
me I could do it?" I reached the point I thought was right, 
cut off the motor, clinched my hands on the wheel, and 
started for the ground at about fifty miles an hour. The 
next thing I remember, I was rolling along the ground, and 
had made the best landing possible. Mr. Pond came up and 
said, "Very good. Try it again." This time it was more 
simple, and there was less nervousness in the atmosphere, 
and I finished with equal success; then I tried it two or 
three times more, and found that I was getting some 
confidence in myself. A little more experience, and less 
self-doubt (it seems that I never thought enough of my- 
self), and I will be all right. After the first solo flight, 
I felt as if I had some right to wear an aviator's uniform. 

Friday night was an interesting evening in camp. The 
instruction in night flying began. The more advanced 
students, under the pupilage of Lieutenants Laffly, Prevot, 
and Captain Brown, made the flights. It was a weird and 
astonishing exhibition, and surely tries the nerves. On one 



64 A Happy Warrior 

of the hangars five strong searchlights were placed; four 
gleaming out into the field, and one directly into the zenith. 
The aeroplane was brought out into the light, started, and 
was out of sight in a second. Then we could only hear the 
roar of the motor. Away from the shafts of light you could 
not see the machine, even close to the ground. We could 
hear it circle about the field a couple of times, and then it 
passed through the light like a flash and disappeared. The 
next minute, the motor had been cut down, and everybody 
waited breathlessly for the landing. In a second, the ma- 
chine passed into the light, coming at a tremendous speed. 
Some three hundred feet beyond it touched the ground with 
a beautiful tail-high landing, a thing which is usually dis- 
couraged. Lieutenant Laffly told me afterwards that he 
dropped fifteen hundred feet in a short distance into the 
field, and this accounted for his terrific speed. It is hard to 
explain it to you, but it was really the most thrilling flight 
I have ever watched. Probably it was so interesting to me 
because the task of landing in the day time is still so difficult 
for me. There were two other flights that evening. 

Friday, we had inspection before General George O. 
Squier and other notable gentlemen, including our fellow 
townsmen, Howard Coffin, Roy Chapin and Goodloe Edgar. 
They were not associating with sergeants, and none of them 
recognized me. Several of them had rides in the air. As 
I did not talk with Coffin or Chapin, I did not get the in- 
formation from them, but there is a rumor that the Hudson 
factory will soon be devoted entirely to the manufacture of 
aeroplane motors. 



OVE R H E R E 65 



Maury Hill had a nasty accident yesterday. He was 
cranking one of the machines, which, as you know, are 
started by the propeller, and it back-fired, and nearly broke 
his wrist. It gave him a bad three-inch cut on the wrist. 
This morning it is very stiff, but he can move his fingers, so 
for a wonder, it does not seem to be broken. To be sure, 
he is going to Champaign to have an X-ray taken this after- 
noon. 

Today, Sunday, the day of rest, we have the pleasant 
task of setting up ten new machines which came last night 
from the Curtis factory. Orders are that we shall continue 
work until all are set up ready for flight tomorrow morning. 
It won't be part of the day's work — it will be all of it. The 
last letter to me, with the desired enclosure, was lost for a 
week. Somebody laid it on my cot, and when I was making 
my bed in the morning, I folded it in and put it to sleep. I 
got it on the 9th, and the post mark was the 31st. We have 
received no pay yet. 

On account of several of the boys' carelessness in failing 
to return on time, leaves have been limited to forty-eight 
hours, and only one a month, so it is a sure thing I will not 
be able to go to Osterville. I will try to visit you in De- 
troit on your return. 

Hoping you are all well and happy, I remain 
Your loving son, 

William. 



66 A Happy Warrior 

Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
August 17, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

All efforts to get a leave seem to be in vain. One thing 
or another comes up which prevents a leave for even forty- 
eight hours. After I began soloing, I thought I would get 
a couple of weeks' furlough, but now I am disappointed in 
this. Lieutenant Hines, in charge of solo flying, was 
wrought up last Sunday because there were only two men to 
help him bring the machines out in the field, so he refused to 
sign any more passes, and Lieutenant Fleckenger will not 
sign any which exempt men from class work. My only 
hope is for a leave in September for a visit to Detroit. 

Work now is about the same as before, with a little 
change in the hours. At present I report at 4:30 a. m., and 
work through until twelve o'clock. The next day I begin 
at twelve o'clock noon, and work through until the ma- 
chine is ready for the next day's flying. I have to keep a 
record of each man's flight, and to see that the machines are 
in good running condition while I am on duty. Of course, 
I have time out for my flight, one-half hour each day, and 
for my classes. The end of the week will, no doubt, bring 
the last stage of my training (elementary), and then I will 
take the tests to qualify as a Reserve Military Aviator. 
There are six tests to be met: 

(1) To climb to an altitude of four thousand feet and 
remain there half an hour. 

(2) To make a cross-country flight of sixty miles with- 
out a stop. 



OVE R H ER E 



67 



(3) Cross-country flight to the town of Leroy (forty 
miles) with a stop there. 

(4) To jump an obstacle fifteen feet high, and come to 
a stop within fifteen hundred feet of the obstacle. 

(5) To climb out of a field two thousand feet square to 
an altitude of five hundred feet. (This is really the most 
diflScult and dangerous.) 

(6) To cut off your motor at an altitude of a thousand 
feet, and glide to the earth, landing within two hundred 
feet of a fixed mark. 

The last requires much skill and practice. Having 
passed these tests, my first training will be over, and I am 
recommended for a commission. I would like then to 
be transferred to Mt. Clemens, because there one is assigned 
to active duty again. On completion of these tests, the 
future work is problematical. It may be instructing, or 
being instructed in the use of the machine gun, bombing 
and other military aeronautic tactics. 

Last week, Mr. Goodloe Edgar found me out. I was at 
my usual work when an orderly informed me I was wanted 
at headquarters. Captain Edgar was waiting for me there, 
and was very courteous. He told me that the school at Self- 
ridge (Mt. Clemens) was to be an advanced school, and hinted 
that it would be a good place for me to go. Another thing he 
said which you will be interested in learning, was that a great 
number of us would not be sent overseas at all, but would 
be kept in this country as instructors. When the time for 
the transfer comes, I will let you know. You may be able 
to accomplish things with all that Detroit contingent. 



68 A Happy Warrior 

Another thing I would Uke to have you do, if you think 
it is right, is to get my commission issued as soon as possible 
after it has been recommended. You may be able to get 
things done quickly at Washington, as you did before. 
Without somebody to push it, my commission may stagnate 
in Washington, or be lost, the same as my first appHcation 
for enlistment from Cornell. You remember that we could 
not find it, and had to put in a new application at Wash- 
ington. This thing of spurring them on at Washington, 
which I am asking, is not unusual. Several of the Memphis 
boys have had their Senator and other influential people do 
it for them. 

You speak of my discomfort. You can forget it. It is 
not as bad as I may have painted it. We are probably as 
comfortable here as we deserve. The students are now 
separate from the regulars, both in barracks and meals. We 
have new quarters up in the officers' end of the post. The 
mess is much better. We have given enough of our pay to 
the mess sergeant to enable him to hire cooks, but we have 
no waiters yet, and we still serve, wash up the dishes and 
pans, and are the kitchen police. You may laugh, but 
washing dishes is the most disagreeable, dirty work I ever 
had to do. It turns my stomach to wash plates covered 
with the thick, sticky food served here. In fact, my stom- 
ach has been slow to adopt the army diet. I am very well, 
but often go without meals, and at times, have obtained a 
pass to eat down town. It is a great inconvenience, but 
seems to be the saving clause for me. I think, however, I 
will soon be able to eat and wash anything with anybody. 



OVE R H E R E 69 



I was fortunate the other day in being able to pick up a 
fine pair of triplex goggles in Chicago. Also, you will be 
interested in knowing I have a wrist watch. The day I 
began soloing, I found that my prejudice against it was 
sentimental, and on the next day I hastened to get one. In 
the air you want to know the time, and you cannot fumble 
around in your pockets to find a watch. You are only 
allowed half an hour for your flying, and the order is strict 
not to over-run your time. In feeling around for my 
watch, I nearly had an unexpected loop. So now, the 
wrist watch for me, and no remarks. 

I remember D wight Armstrong very well. Give him 
my regards. I have not seen him since leaving Hill. 

No chance of Osterville for me this year. In place of 
that we will have our visit and golf or a long ride together 
in Detroit. 



With love to all, 



Your loving son, 

William. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
August 28, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

The interval between my letters has been longer than 

usual, but not because I have not been thinking of you all. 

I have had my first touch of discouragement this past week. 

Our commanding officers have all been changed, and 

four majors of the regular army are in charge. They 



70 A Happy Warrior 

seem to think that greater discipline for the reserves is 
necessary, and they are certainly putting them through 
their paces. We have about two hundred regulars here 
who do not fly, and have been doing the fatigue detail, but 
now they do nothing, and the reserves are required to do 
all the work, even waiting on the tables, and serving the 
regulars, and washing their dishes, and cleaning up their 
garbage. Next, we have not been permitted to take our 
R. M. A. tests, which were set for last Tuesday. An an- 
nouncement is made that we must have fifteen hours of 
solo work instead of four, which has been considered ample 
for any normal person. This means possibly another six 
weeks' training before tests, and is delaying our entire 
course. This is on the safety-first side, of course, and 
maybe it ought not to be objected to, but another thing 
which goes against the grain and is contrary to the promise 
made on our enlistment, is that administrators and men in 
charge of fields only are to be recommended for commissions, 
the others to be flying sergeants. The former are all 
regulars, and exposed to no danger. The sergeants would 
do the fighting. Young regulars, too, most of whom en- 
listed after we did, have been placed in charge of sections of 
about ten reserves. These men, who have had little or no 
experience, and do not fly, and are surely not as well quali- 
fied as the class of men in the aviation reserves, have the 
say as to whether a machine is in condition to fly. This 
change has come within a week, and naturally a gloom has 
come with it. Our consolation is that we are confident 
that such regulations must be only temporary. 



OVE R H E R E 71 



My own flying has advanced satisfactorily, and I am be- 
ginning at last to believe more in myself. On Friday and 
Monday, conditions for flying were very bad, and after a 
few flights, flying was called off, I went up both days, and 
cruised about with a forty mile wind blowing. By exercis- 
ing watchful care, the rise, the flight in the air, and the land- 
ing were all satisfactory. I was rather surprised that there 
was not more bother, and this experience, more than any- 
thing else so far, has given me confidence. They were not 
the usual pleasant flights, as there was a fight every minute 
to keep stable, first a bump on one side, then on the 
other, then a drop, and in a fraction of a second you would 
go shooting directly up. All the time you had to watch 
yourself; going with the wind, the speed would be about 
one hundred miles an hour, and against it, not much more 
than twenty. It seems to me that I learned more in those 
two half-hour storm flights than in all the rest of my time. 
A minute's practice in the exercise of quick judgment and 
the correction of errors caused by nasty weather counts more 
than hours of smooth sailing. 

Maury invited me to visit him in St. Louis over Sunday. 
I had no money, but, of course, I went. Speaking of money, 
you may be wondering what I do with the lavish wages which 
I receive. The fact is, we have not received any for July 
or August. On the sergeant's door is the following notice: 
"Please do not bother me with foolish and unimportant 
questions as to when you will get your pay." At St. Louis 
we spent Sunday evening at Sunset Inn, where my St. 
Louis college friends gathered. Nearly everyone was in 



72 A Happy Wa r r i o r 

uniform, and had been since about July 1st. Sunday, we 
had a fine day at the Country Club, and I played golf like 
an aviator. We traveled all night, and were back in the 
field bright and early, and in time for work Monday morn- 
ing. 

I would like to go to Detroit a week from next Saturday. 
Can you not arrange my matters there so that it will require 
about five days to attend to them? 

There is much talk about where we will go for the winter. 
It may be Memphis again, or Waco, Texas, or possibly stay 
here. From the progress already made, I think that I might 
save time and get into action quicker by going to Mt. 
Clemens. That is something I would like to look over in 
Detroit. 

A nice letter and a bunch of magazines came from 
Christine the other day. Several of the articles in the 
Atlantic were very interesting, and have brought about 
some useful discussion among the boys. If this series of 
articles continues, please keep the magazine coming. 

We are busier than ever, and we now have the new duty 
of two hours military drill each day. I also regret to say 
that it is necessary to repeat my vaccination and inocula- 
tions again. It seems that the doctor failed to make rec- 
ord in his register in my case and several others. It is a bit 
of a calamity, and I think that Dr. Brown was, too. We 
like our new physician very much. 

This is far from a cheerful letter, but here's hoping that 
the next will be bright and full of sunshine, which is here 
aplenty. We think that the worst is not yet to come. 



Chanute Field, Rantoul, 111. 
First solo flight, August 11, 1917 



Over Here 73 



I am enclosing a small photo which Bill Goulding snapped 
of me with my fighting face on, just before my first solo. 
You will observe a few signs of nervousness. Otherwise it 
is a very good picture, as he now appears, of 
Your loving son, 

William. 



Chanute Field, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
September 3, 1917. 
Dear Anne — 

This is the first of my letters to Detroit addressed to you, 
but I knew that of course you would see my letters to 
father. Today, I felt like having a talk with you from 
far away. 

My work has been fascinating with only occasional 
draw backs. Until we came to Rantoul, little was accom- 
plished, but since then, progress has been so fast that I can 
hardly realize all my preliminary training is over, and now 
it is only to wait until my commission arrives and I am 
assigned to active duty. Today, the last of my R. M. A. 
tests was successfully completed. This makes me a 
Reserve Military Aviator. The final tests are extended 
during three days. First, we were required to climb to an 
altitude of four thousand feet and remain there forty-five 
minutes. On the descent, we had to make one spiral to the 
right and one to the left with the motor shut down. The 
drop into the field was made with a dead engine from a 



74 A Happy Warrior 

height of one thousand feet, and the landing within two 
hundred feet of a designated mark. This is not the most 
dangerous, but by far the hardest to do accurately. The next 
was a triangular cross-country flight, covering a dis- 
tance of sixty miles without a stop. Then, there were three 
tests, consisting of climbing to an altitude of five hundred 
feet without going out of the boundaries of a tract two 
thousand feet square. This is the most dangerous, because 
one is apt to get into a tail spin on the turns, which is very 
perilous if you are near the ground. Next, on landing, we 
had to jump a hurdle fifteen feet high, and land on the other 
side, coming to a stop within fifteen hundred feet of the 
hurdle; and last of all, a hundred mile cross-country flight 
without a stop. I am informed now that I am entitled to 
a commission, but it may be some time before it comes. It 
seems to take longer in the aviation than in the other 
branches of the service. 

Our life here, during the time when we do not have the 
excitement and delight of flying, is very monotonous, and 
under strict regulations. The bugler blows his horn so 
often, from early morning until evening, and each time we 
must jump up and answer, "Here." What little time one 
might have for recreation, is carefully occupied for recita- 
tions, lectures, or some fatigue duty. Such things as 
washing dishes, unloading coal from cars, policing the 
quarters and building roads are common forms of fatigue 
duty; and the worst is, if you are unfortunate enough to 
draw one of these fatigues during the time set apart for your 



OVE R H E R E 75 



flight, you have to give up flying. Nevertheless, we are 
training to be aviators. We are persuaded, too, that the 
three majors in charge have no affection for reserves, but 
we must give them credit for pushing us along. At other 
training camps, I understand Saturdays and Sundays are 
free, and furloughs are frequently granted, but our Sunday 
is not a day of rest, and furloughs, except upon good cause 
shown, are nil. 

Our quarters are very comfortable, but there is no chance 
to be alone. You eat, wash, dress, sleep, and even write 
with a throng about you. You might not like the food, but 
it is wholesome and nutritious. One thing we seriously 
object to is the fondness which our medical staff have for 
vaccinating and inoculating. I have been scraped for 
small pox twice, and injected for typhoid three times. I 
am told the small pox game is now concluded, but the 
doctor says that several more typhoid preventatives may 
be suflBcient. 

My thoughts in idle moments now all turn to home, and 
I am endeavoring to concoct a plan which will commend 
itself to Major Brown for a visit to Detroit. I have been 
nearly five months away, and have missed only one-half a 
day of work, when I spent Sunday at home. If I can get 
away now, among other enjoyments of home will be an 
appointment with the dentist. 

Well, Anne, after leaving college, here I am, in an army 
post, taking a post graduate course, learning to fly and fight. 
What will happen when my commission comes, or even 



76 A Happy Warrior 

before, I do not know. All kinds of rumors are afloat. 
Some of the boys have been sent to other schools in America 
as instructors, and others to England, France, Italy and 
Egypt for further instruction in aeronautical war tactics. 
Hoping to see you all soon. 

Your loving brother. 

Bill. 
To Mrs. James T. McMillan, 
Grosse Pointe Park, Mich. 



Fourth Aerial Squadron, 
Rantoul, Illinois, 
September 11, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

The R. M. A. tests, as I wrote you, are completed. I am 
considered a finished aviator as far as the instruction at 
this camp goes, and am now only waiting for a commission 
and the assignment to active duty. Those of us who have 
passed, have little to do but wait. The others have prefer- 
ence in the use of the machines, and only when one is idle 
do we get a ride. I have managed, however, by being ready 
at any minute, to squeeze in a fifteen or twenty minute 
flight each day. There is a pleasing rumor today that the 
boys who have passed may be sent home to await their 
commissions and assignments to active duty, although I 
have been turned down for a leave, and feel sure that my 
expected visit home must be given up. It seems that we 
must not be scattered, and must be on call for assignment 
on short notice. 



OVE R H E R E 77 



Last night, the class which preceded us was sent, on 
telegraphic order, to San Antonio, Texas, for advanced 
training. Orders were given at reveille, and twenty-four 
of the boys were off the next morning. Many of them were 
my friends at Memphis, and I felt rotten when they said 
good-bye. Several pairs of brothers and many best friends 
were split up. To those of us who were left, not even a 
reliable hint, except that we may expect a removal soon, 
has been given as to where we will go, whether to Memphis, 
Miami, San Antonio, France, Italy or Egypt. 

I have not bought any officer's uniform yet, because we 
are told that probably a new style will be worn by the 
Aviation Section, steel gray in color, with a soft roll collar. 
It will be an innovation, and until we know definitely, you 
will see no change in my comfortable undress soldier clothes. 

The weather now has become very cold, and we are having 
our first taste of winter flying. I do not dread it, because 
I am sure the excitement of flying will keep your mind off 
the weather, and keep you warm all right. 

If you should run across Captain Edgar, or Major Hutton, 
give them my regards, and please let them know that I have 
completed my instruction and am waiting for a commission. 

I am very well, a little too fit if anything, and have noth- 
ing to complain of except that I cannot visit you. 

Love to all, 

Your loving son, 

William. 



78 A Happy Warrior 

TELEGRAM 

Champaign, Illinois, 
September 11, 1917. 
Henry Russel, 
Detroit. 
Word received from Washington this evening, ordering 
us to report immediately to Camp Kelly, San Antonio, for 
advanced training on speed scout machines. Will wire you 
further information and address, Maury and I are sepa- 
rated. Very sorry for that. Ten of us to leave. 

William. 



TELEGRAM 

Rantoul, Illinois, 
September 12, 1917. 
Henry Russel, 
Detroit. 
Order to report to San Antonio revoked. Will keep you 
advised. 

William. 



TELEGRAM 

Rantoul, Illinois, 
September 19, 1917. 
Henry Russel, 
Detroit. 
Ordered to report Fort Wood, New York. Arrive there 
Saturday morning. 

William. 



OVE R H E R E 79 



TELEGRAM 

New York, N. Y., 
September 23, 1917. 
Henry Russel, 
Detroit. 
Probably stationed Fort Wood, Bedloe's Island, for two 
weeks before sailing for France. Would like to see you. 

William. 



TELEGRAM 

New York, N. Y., 
Friday, October 5, 1917. 
Henry Russel, 
Detroit. 
Honorably discharged as Sergeant today. First Lieu- 
tenant's commission dated September 20, 1917, received. 
Ordered to report Monday morning with personal and field 
equipment. Probably sail Tuesday. 

William. 



INTERSCRIPTION 



INTERSCRIPTION 



Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, 
New York City, N. Y., 
Columbus Day, Oct. 12, 1917. 
My Dear Captain — 

On December 4th, 1893, my brother George was per- 
suaded to buy ten tickets to a lecture on astrology, the 
proceeds to be for some local charity. That evening the 
crowd of his boys, with their visiting friends, were making 
night hideous at his house, and to get rid of them, he asked 
if they would not like to go to the Opera House and see a show. 
They accepted with a shout, and he gave them the tickets, 
put up their carfares, and had a peaceful evening. He 
smiled to think what a bore the lecture on astrology would 
be to the boys. 

The next morning at breakfast, he innocently inquired 
how they liked the show. To his surprise, they answered 
with great enthusiasm, "Bully. The lecturer had a magic 
lantern, and it was fine." A few minutes later, he remarked, 
"Do you know there is a new baby at Uncle Harry's house?" 
The boys exclaimed with great excitement, "When?" 
He answered, "Yesterday." They asked if he could tell 
the exact time the baby was born. That was a puzzler to 
him, and he asked why they wanted to know that. They 
replied that the lecturer had said that he had cast the 
horoscope of the stars that day, and that the position of the 
constellations showed that on that very afternoon at about 



84 A Happy Warrior 

5:20 o'clock, as near as he could calculate, a child was born 
— it may have been in Detroit and it may have been in 
Van Dieman's Land, but somewhere on earth — who would 
be the Columbus of aerial discovery. "Maybe," they said, 
"the baby at Uncle Harry's house is the very one." The 
boys immediately adjourned to my house. I was alone at 
the breakfast table. Your friend Philip, who was the 
spokesman for the party, began by asking, "How is Aunt 
Nellie?" I was glad to report that she was very well. 
"And how is the baby boy?" He, too, seemed to be doing 
well. "There," said he to his companions, "I told you it was 
a boy"; and turning to me, "Now, Uncle Harry, we want 
to know just when that baby was born." I beat about the 
bush for further information as to the suitable time, and 
then left the table, walked up the front and down the back 
stairs, and told them I could not find out the exact minute, 
but as close as it could be figured it was just about 5:20 
p. M. the day before, December 4th, 1893. The boys at 
once turned their backs on me. All talked at the same time, 
and settled it among themselves that there was no doubt 
but that the kid upstairs was the baby whose birth had been 
revealed to the astrologer. "But," they said, "we ought 
to tell you that the lecturer foretold that the aerial dis- 
coverer would lose his life by falling from a balloon before 
he was twenty-six years old." 

You will remember, we talked about calling the baby 
"William Columbus," and the joke went so far that the 
relatives in Scotland thought that was his name, and you 
sent him a silver set, which he cherishes, marked "William 



Interscription 85 

Columbus Russel." Some of the family frequently use the 
nickname "Columbus," even though he was baptized in 
the memory of the good man, his grandfather, William Muir. 

At that time, the aeroplane, now almost a vehicle, in 
common use, was a flight of fancy. Like Darius Green's 
flying machine, the world laughed at the thought of it. 
Years afterwards, a prominent American statesman was 
jeered at in Congress for introducing a measure to aid 
Professor Langley in the development of a flying craft, 
heavier than air. The great legislative body could not give 
attention to such foolishness, and the enthusiast, Langley, 
died without making any practical success of his experi- 
mental machine. The Wrights, who were boys then 
watching the birds in their flight, and other inventors have 
become the Columbuses of aerial discovery. 

Nearly twenty-four years have slipped away, and William 
Muir Russel is now a First Lieutenant in the Aviation 
Section of the Signal Corps of the United States Army, and 
sails tomorrow with the Third Overseas Detachment for 
advanced training and active service. The enclosed touch- 
ing poem, clipped from today's issue of The Saturday 
Evening Post, tells all my story. God, spare him to come 
back home again. 

There is little chance of his going up in a balloon, but 
before he is twenty-six years of age, he will, no doubt, often 
be above the clouds in a far more dangerous pursuit. I am 
not superstitious, and attach no significance to the fiction 
of the astrologer's imaginative foreboding. The stars move 
on in their courses, fixed by the Eternal Ruler, and are 



86 A Happy Warrior 

guides to humanity, not controllers — to the least extent — 
of human life. The boys' adventure with the astrologer was 
merely a curious coincidence, such as is happening every 
day. 

One cannot think, however, of the work of a birdman, 
especially in the terrible peril of war service, without a 
sinking of the heart, and yet — 

"I have grasped his hand — 

Most men will understand — 

And wished him, smiling, lucky chance 

In France." 

He graduated from Cornell last April, and immediately 
enUsted and was trained in the aviation fields of Memphis, 
Ashburn, and Rantoul. He seems to have passed all the 
tests satisfactorily, and has become an expert flyer. 

His resemblance to his mother is so remarkable that you 
can picture what he looks like. I will send you his photo- 
graph, and am sure you will recall her dear face. He has 
always been an easy-going, carefree boy, with no fixed 
purpose except to be amiable and take things as they come. 
Five months, however, of soldier life, with only one day's 
leave at home, have made of him a serious man. The old 
time smile is gone, although some of his humor remains. 
He is completely engrossed in his work, and will talk of 
nothing but aero-dynamics, and the important part which 
aeroplanes will take in winning the victory for the Allies. 
He is a fluent writer, and like his grandfather, Muir, his 
handwriting is exceptionally fine. He has written long 
letters to me twice a week, and if ever published, they will 



Interscription 87 

be a real contribution to the history of this country's 
preparation for war. His enthusiasm is inspiring, and he is 
leaving home now for foreign service in this awful war like 
one who goes forth to joyous adventure. 

It may be in the benevolence of Providence, it is well that 
his mother is not here to bear the parting. Eleanor, who 
has come to love him dearly, clings to him, and cannot say 
good-bye. Christine, too, has been in New York to see him 
off. He was ordered from Rantoul to report at New York 
for overseas service, without an opportunity to stop at 
Detroit, and so has had no farewells with Weeanne or Helen 
or the rest of the family. We have fitted him out the best 
we could with war equipment, personal comforts, and his 
Bible, Something from everyone in the family from his 
grandmother to the youngest kid, Weeanne's William, 
three weeks old (her fifth child, and my twelfth grandchild). 

We are, therefore, only waiting here to give him the last 
word of God-speed, and 1 have occupied the time until he 
returns from Fort Wood this evening in putting my thoughts 
on paper in the way of this long letter to you. I feel, my 
dear Captain, that you and the other friends and relatives 
across the sea will be interested, and trusting it will reach 
you and find you as happy as any of us can hope to be in 
these days of war and distress, I am as ever. 
Affectionately yours, 

Henry Russel. 

To Captain Alex Ritchie, 
St. John, 

Ayr, Scotland. 



88 A Happy Warrior 

I HAVE A SON 

/ have a son who goes to France 

Tomorrow. 

I have clasped his hand — 

Most men will understand — 

And wished him, smiling, lucky chance 

In France. 

My son! 

At last the house is still — 

Just the dog and I in the garden — dark — 

Stars and my pipe's red spark — 

The house his young heart used to fill 

Is still. 

He said, one day: "I've got to go 

To France — Dad, you know how I feel!" 

I knew. Like sun and steel 

And morning. "Yes," I said; "/ know 

You II go." 

Fd waited just to hear him speak 

Like that. 

God, what if I had had 

Another sort of lad. 

Something too soft, too meek and weak 

To speak! 

And yet — 

He could not guess the blow 

He'd struck. 

Why, he's my only son! 

And we had just begun 

To be dear friends. But I dared not show 

The blow. 



Interscription 



But now — tonight — 

No, no; it's right; 

I never had a righter thing 

To bear. And men must fling 

Themselves away in the grieving sight 

Of right. 

A handsome boy — but I, who knew 
His spirit — well, they cannot mar 
The cleanness of a star 
That'll shine to me, always and true, 
Who knew. 

Fve given him. 

Yes; and had I more 

I'd give them too— for there's a love 

That asking asks above 

The human measure of our store — 

And more. 

Yes; it hurts! 

Here in the dark, alone — 

No one to see my wet old eyes — 

I'll watch the morning rise — 

And only God shall hear my groan 

Alone. 

I have a son who goes to France 

Tomorrow. 

I have clasped his hand — 

Most men will understand — 

And wished him, smiling, lucky chance 

In France. 

— Emory Pottle. 

Copyrighted by 

Emort Pottle 




Above— S. 8. St. Loins, New York, 0(-tober 15, 1917 
Below— At Sea 



OVER THERE 



OVER THERE 



U. S. M. S. SL Louis, 
October 15, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

I am very comfortably located with Vanderhoef and 
Townes in a room on the starboard side. Have learned 
more or less of interior navigation, and familiarized myself 
with the inward ways of a ship on this, my first voyage at 
sea. 

All the men in uniform have been kept below decks until 
we clear port, and so have not had a chance to say au 
revoir to the Statue of Liberty. 

Everything looks satisfactory so far, and I feel sure we 
will have a pleasant voyage. My address will be, 
c/o Aviation Section, 

American Expeditionary Forces, 
Via New York. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



Henry Russel, 
Detroit. 



CABLEGRAM 

Sans Origin, 

Received October 28, 1917. 



All right. 

William. 

(931 



94 A Happy Warrior 

Dolphin Hotel, 
Southampton, England, 
October 25, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

Arrived safely after a beautiful trip across. Your 
prophecy of good weather was quite right except for one 
day when we were tossed about by a heavy wind. 

I met some very interesting gentlemen. At our table 
sat a Major Cochrane of the Canadian Army, a friend of 
Enid Hendrie, and also a Mr. Delange, the inventor of a 
new thermo-telephone, which he said will revolutionize the 
telephone world. He told me that he was also the inventor 
of an instrument to telephone between an aeroplane in 
flight and the ground. He said he had been in the United 
States five months at the invitation of the government. 
He seemed to take a great fancy to me, and made himself 
numerous with our bunch. He gave us many unsolicited 
promises of assistance, if we should ever need it, in 
Europe. 

Our quarters on the boat were comfortable, but not so 
elaborate as they pictured them to us before the start. 
However, it made little difference. We had no use for 
them except for sleep, and that came sure and sound. I am 
now stopping at this quaint hotel which I imagine is typical 
of England. It is much more homelike than ours. I was 
sorry that we were rushed from Liverpool directly here 
without stopping at London. I wanted to go there before 
crossing the Channel. To see England without London 
seems to me like Hamlet without the melancholy Dane. 



OVE R Th ere 95 

Have just heard that this letter will go quickly if mailed at 
once. So am writing briefly and in haste. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



November 6, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

I am here on the Continent after a trip across the sea 
without much incident. It is just what I wanted. I am 
not yet at the final destination, but expect to be within a 
day or two. This is an interesting world, and my time 
before actual work begins is taken up talking to English 
officers, watching the German prisoners, and seeing the 
country. One wearing the American uniform need not 
hesitate to talk with anybody. In fact, everybody comes 
smiling up to him first. The Enghsh officers are very inter- 
esting, and ready to do a favor. I haven't had the good 
fortune yet of making the acquaintance of many of the 
French officers with whom I shall be associated, nor have 
I had an opportunity to visit Mr. Sharp, but have already 
seen many old familiar faces. 

Orders now made require me to retrace part of my steps. 
I am glad to find that the new duties will not interfere with 
my advanced training. I will have charge of aeroplanes 
and motors in one of the larger flying fields. 

When once definitely settled, my letters will be more 
frequent, but short and rather indefinite on account of 
censorship. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



96 A Happy Warrior 

November 8, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

I have retraced none of my footsteps. Still on the Con- 
tinent. My work is mostly clerical, and will be until the 
school for advanced training opens in a short time. Every 
afternoon, I go to a field. Villa Coubley, where we have a 
few aeroplanes for the men in the building where I am, and 
so keep my hand in the game. I have also learned to fly 
with the stick control, which is quite different from the 
Dep which I flew in the States. The machines in use here 
are beautiful. The hours of work are nine to twelve and 
two to six — the entire afternoon at the field. More familiar 
faces turn up every day. It is very gratifying, as only four 
of our original bunch are left here. 

I can get along quite well now in French so far as speaking 
to another goes, but unless they talk to me slowly, I am lost. 
Am building up my vocabulary and learning the expressions 
of the day reading French newspapers. 

Comfort and the best of health have been mine ever since 
we parted in New York. 

Love to all, 

Your loving son, 

William. 



November 12, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

Not a word yet from anybody at home, and I am wonder- 
ing whether you have heard from me. The mail is still in 
confusion, and a fellow is fortunate to get a letter. How- 
ever, they are working out a good system, and I think the 



OVE R Th ere 97 

trouble will be remedied before long. My location is still 
on the continent, and I am busy all mornings on a temporary 
job from which I will be relieved as soon as my flying 
orders come through. Every afternoon, I take a beautiful 
automobile drive to Villa Coubley, where there are all types 
of machines, and I am having fine times flying all by myself. 
The very first day, Lieutenant Chatain gave me fifteen 
minutes' instruction with the stick control — the first time 
I had ever used it — and as I seemed to get the knack of it 
he told me to go ahead, that I was all right. It was one of 
the well-known Nieuport machines, and the best way I can 
explain the difference between our machines and it, is to 
compare our original curved dash Oldsmobile with a Pack- 
ard twin-six. The Nieuport has a powerful motor and a 
light fuselage, and will pull you anywhere at any angle. It 
avoids a lot of the danger which was so common in the 
Curtis. Outside of the quick response to the controls, the 
great difference is in the terrific speed at which you take off 
the ground and make your landing. 

One objectionable feature of the flying at this season is 
the intense cold. You cannot imagine how bitter it is. 
I put on a couple of knitted masks, then Allen's leather 
fur-lined helmet and my goggles. Even then, the part of 
my face which is exposed stiffens and prevents me from 
moving my mouth. My hands also become numb with 
the cold. I usually go up for twenty minutes at a time, 
and then hug a stove for a while before trying it again. 

At breakfast the other morning, an elderly gentleman 
drew up beside me, and asked many questions about the 



98 A Happy Warrior 

States. He introduced himself as Mr. Wilbur, Consul 
General at Genoa, and was very agreeable. He was here 
getting a passport into Switzerland to bring away his wife and 
child who were living there. He had met Doctors Torrey 
and McLean of Detroit, and was very optimistic about the 
Italian situation. 

Last night I dined with a Mr. Mitchell who had an im- 
mense stable before the war, and who has many interests in 
Russia. His descriptions are very vivid and thrilling. He 
has invited us to dine with him on the 14th again, and we are 
looking forward to it as a treat. 

I have discovered that I have bought a great deal of 
unsatisfactory wardrobe, and if I could make my purchases 
again, could do so to great advantage. Tell anybody 
coming over to bring warm clothing without regard to looks. 
Anything will do if it is warm. The high hunting boots you 
forced on me are about the most useful things in my equip- 
ment. Rain, rain and mud are incessant. English woolen 
clothing seems to be better and cheaper. Heavy uniforms 
are the thing. At the same time, one should have as little 
baggage as practicable, as you have to handle it yourself, 
and it has a habit of getting lost. 

Am well. Love to all. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



November 16, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

I have moved into a very attractive little apartment 
with three nice fellows; new friends I have made. Our 



Over Th ere 99 

apartment is costing us ten francs a day, and our three 
meals eighteen francs. We have two double bedrooms, and 
an intervening sitting room and bath. Right across the 
way is Fouquet's Restaurant. Whenever we feel rich, 
which is not often, we dine there. 

I have heard from some of the other boys who came over 
in the same ship, and fear that they are not as well fixed as I 
am. 

Every afternoon, weather permitting, and more often not, 
I go out and fiy, so that I am getting a pretty good training 
on my own initiative. I have come to feel at home and to 
enjoy the sensation of sailing through the air as much as on 
the heavy rigged Curtis at Rantoul. 

I have no letters from you yet, nor have I had a word 
from Maury. I am not alone in being without news from 
home and therefore have not felt disappointed. 

The other day we hired a worthy old sea-going hack to see 
whatever sights of Paris might be open. In the Invalides' 
Court, Guynemer's aeroplane has been set up, and 
when an officer approaches it, he salutes, as we did, but 
the women kiss it. He is one of the great heroic figures of 
France at present. The rest of the sights now are, as you 
recall them — Arc de Triomphe, Madeleine, Notre Dame, 
Eiffel Tower, etc. The night life, I presume, is far different 
from what you remember it. The restaurants close at 
9:30 sharp, and you must leave at that time whether 
you have finished dinner or not. Dancing is absolutely 
prohibited, and there is no music except at the theatres. 
I have been to several of the French theatres. As yet, the 



100 A Happy Warrior 

talk is too fast for me to catch on. Their taice-offs on the 
American soldiers and sailors are very good, and no show is 
complete without it. 

Two things I want — one is cigarettes, and the other is 
more knitted helmets. The ones I brought were fine, but 
I gave all but one away. They are most essential. The 
cold is terrific at any altitude, and I have never flown here 
yet unless a part of the time in a fog or heavy mist. 

As you remember, I was in very good health in New York, 
and I am glad to report that I was better in England, and 
best in France. Hoping that you are all as well as I am, 
Your loving son, 

William. 



November 24, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

Just a line to keep in touch with you and let you know 
something of my whereabouts. 

More familiar faces appear each day. Yesterday, per- 
haps, might be called "Detroit Reunion Day." On the way 
to the Headquarters Building, where I work mornings, I 
was deUghted to run across Colonel Hutton. He was 
surprised to find me in Paris as a commissioned officer. He 
said it only seemed a couple of weeks since he was helping 
to put through my enlistment at Washington. 

While we were talking, Mr. Dayton of Detroit came 
along, and shortly afterwards, a government automobile 
drove up, and out stepped Mr. Angus Smith and Herbert 
Hughes. Both are at work in Headquarters in the 
same building as I am. Their's are permanent jobs, 



OVE R Th ere 101 

however. Praise the Lord, mine is not, but it has been a 
good experience, and I have been able to learn much of the 
important work of supplying an army, and of military 
organization, which, if I should ever have a command may 
mean much to me. It has also brought me into intimate 
contact with my superior officers. What I will be doing next 
no one can say — so many various duties have been hinted at. 

Last night Vallie came to the apartment, and we dined 
with Miss Hoeveler, Bill's sister. Vallie did not enlist as 
a private in the army when the government took over the 
ambulance corps, and now goes to Italy to serve in the 
ambulance corps there. Many of the young men who were 
in the ambulance corps are in a rather uncomfortable 
predicament. The United States government is forcing them 
to enlist as privates, or sending them back to the States 
to be drafted. 

My flying, although still carried on independently, seems 
to be progressing well. I have had a chance to associate 
with expert French lieutenants, who are only too glad to 
give an American any information and advice they can. 
They tell me what to do, and then correct where I fail in my 
efforts. In this way, I am getting on to all the necessary 
stunts which later will be required. A good deal of the 
flying must be carried on quite near the ground, as the 
weather at this time is very foggy, and the clouds are low. 
It is the more difficult kind of flying. It is more and more 
fascinating as the time goes on and I become more proficient. 

Am in perfect health. Love to all, 

Your loving son, „^ 

William. 



102 A Happy Warrior 

St. Nazaire, France, 
December 1, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

I have been fortunate enough to be sent on a trip from 
headquarters through one of the most beautiful sections of 
France, along the Loire River, through the valley and 
chateau district between Tours and Nantes. It was 
Thanksgiving Day, but the only feasting I did was on the 
scenery. Although at the end of November, the country 
seemed as green as I imagine it would be in mid-summer. 
On the hills along the valley are built beautiful white 
chateaux — little villas and great castles. St. Nazaire is a 
curious French seaport town. My job was to bring forty- 
five Packard three-ton trucks, fifteen trailers, and ten gaso- 
line tank trucks from St. Nazaire to Paris. It was quite 
a job to quarter fifty-five men and ration them in strange 
little towns along the route, some three hundred miles, with 
my diminutive knowledge of French. To obtain parking 
space for the trucks is always a problem. I have a per- 
fectly good six cylinder Hudson for myself, which I am also 
to take back to Paris. 

Sandy Wetherbee of Detroit has gone into the bombing 
end of aviation, and is taking his training. The other four 
of us. Bill Hoeveler, Vanderhoef, Joe Trees, and I are for 
pursuit work. Not sure yet that our hopes will be gratified, 
but we are under the instruction of a French lieutenant to 
fit us for that line of service. 

The other night, I had the great pleasure of dining with 
Raoul Lufberry. The story of his experiences was thrilling, 



Over Th ere 103 

and his advice worth while. Ed. Buford had a nasty fall 
the other day. He broke his shoulder and sustained other 
minor injuries about the head. He is getting the best of 
attention, however, at a good hospital, and has nothing to 
complain of. It saves him a lot of work and worry. 

Herbert Hughes will return to Detroit soon, and I have 
asked him to make a personal report. I think it will relieve 
any anxiety that you may have about me for a while at any 
rate. 

I met one of my Cornell friends here the other day, and 
wondered whether it were possible that you would prefer 
to have me out of harm's way as he is. He has a beautiful 
bomb-proof job, and has social work to do. He resides in 
a fine apartment, and has time to strut about the various 
tea rooms, which he does with much swagger. Vallie and I 
were proud to be recognized. The time may come when I 
may wish that I had his job, as things look dark over here — 
more so, it seems, than they do to you in America. The 
war will surely last a long time yet, and the aviation service 
will have to do a great part. You need have no doubt but 
that it will be performed, whatever it may cost in life and 
suffering. 

I am comforting myself with the belief that you are all 
well, because, as yet, I have received not a word from home. 
My only mail has been letters from other boys over here. 

Am in the best of health. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



104 A Happy Warrior 

St. Nazaire, France, 
December 4, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

I am still here gathering aviation material for my auto 
train. You would be surprised at the amount. It hardly 
seems that submarines can be accomplishing anything to 
see the ships coming in in large convoys, and the forest of 
masts in this newly built seaport, a beautiful sight. 

Today, after I had left my men to keep tab on the checkers 
who note aviation boxes and their destination, I went aboard 
one of the warships on which I understood some of my 
material was loaded. Among the ship's officers, I met a 
boy in naval uniform who looked good to me. He hailed 
me with the greeting, "Isn't this Bill Russel?" It was Louis 
Carr, of St. Louis, a classmate whom I had not seen since 
the Hill school days. He invited me to lunch on the ship, 
and gave me the first real American meal I have eaten since 
I left you in New York, 

Most of the work done on the docks is by German 
prisoners — big strong fellows, probably the first to enter the 
war. It makes me curious to know what their thoughts 
must be, unloading unlimited supplies from an undrained 
country. The effect on the French people is apparent. 
There is no room for doubt; it is a mighty stimulus. 

My birthday was celebrated in a fine little French 
restaurant here, and Lieutenant Reilly was my only guest. 
It was a pleasant but short evening. At 9:30, we were 
invited to leave the cafe, and be off the streets or spend the 
night in the cooler at the request of the military police. 



Over Th ere 105 



The marines are the police, and we know that they do their 
work effectively. 

I am looking forward to my trip back to Paris through 
one of the prettiest parts of France. I will have to drive 
slowly on account of keeping with the trucks, and it will 
give me a splendid chance to see a lovely part of the world. 
I shall be glad to get back to Paris because there is no flying 
field near here, so that even in the leisure hours during the 
gathering of my freight, I cannot take wings. There may 
be a chance to go up in a dirigible from a big station located 
near, possibly tomorrow. 

I have told more in this letter than usual, but don't think I 
have given away any secrets. It is a pleasure to write to you, 
as it seems as if I were having a visit and talk with you. 

Give a good word to all. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



St. Nazaire, France, 
December 6, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

A great opportunity has come to write you a letter in 
more detail than I have yet done, so I am going to rehearse 
some of the past. Am sending this letter direct on an 
American ship. 

On leaving New York, October 15th last, we were rushed 
below deck until port was cleared, after which we were 
allowed to come above. Instead of the long roundabout 
route for sailing, our ship made a dash straight across the 
ocean, not picking up any convoys until the danger zone 



106 A Happy Warrior 

was reached, when two American destroyers took us into 
Liverpool on the night of the seventh day. Our quarters 
on the ship were comfortable, our meals excellent, and the 
portions liberal compared with army rations. It was a 
pleasant trip with beautiful weather. 

We disembarked at Liverpool in the morning, and were 
immediately rushed through to Southampton and put up 
at a comfortable little English hotel. 

After one day without any signs of orders, some of us got 
leave to go to London. We were met at the station 
by men of the Royal Flying Corps. They were very 
hospitable, and took us at once in an automobile through 
the gloomy streets of the darkened city to the flying field. 
One of the staff aeroplanes was turned over to our disposal, 
and I was taken up in some of their latest machines, includ- 
ing one of the new German Albatrosses, a wonderful 
machine, the leading plane of the day. I had an oppor- 
tunity to experience all their stunts as a passenger, and in 
the course of the flight, by the register, reached a maximum 
speed of one hundred and thirty-eight miles an hour. 

My first real sight of London was a bird's-eye view from 
thousands of feet up in the air. 

Returning to Southampton, we found a transport await- 
ing us, and perhaps the worst night of my existence ahead. 
We were crowded into a small boat about ten o'clock that 
evening, and everybody was ordered to put on a life pre- 
server. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and for that 
reason, they hesitated to send us over, but finally decided 
to make a dash, even though it was as bright as day. The 



OVE R Th ere 107 

boat was cleared of all cabins and chairs, and we sat around 
on the deck. All lights were extinguished, and smoking 
prohibited. The excitement was intense, and everybody 
on the qui vive. It was several hours' run to La Havre 
and the Channel was active. At 3:30 in the morning, we 
hove into sight of France. As we slid into the harbor, day 
was breaking, and it was a beautiful sight to see the sun 
and land. We were immediately marched to an English 
rest camp, and got there just too late for breakfast. There 
were no orders for us, so we settled down to make the best 
of it. Our quarters were in an old horse-shed which was 
temporarily fixed up with bars and cross wires for mat- 
tresses. Our bed rolls were still on board, so the first 
evening they gave us two blankets apiece, and bade us 
good-night. It was very cold all the time we were there, and 
each morning was as welcome as the first. 

After five days of this, orders came from headquarters 
to go to Paris. The long-hoped-for day arrived. We were 
roughly awakened at four o'clock in the morning, and at 
six, were on the way. There are few signs of war in this 
part of France except for the many uniforms and the train 
loads of supplies. Towards evening, we arrived and re- 
ported at aviation headquarters and to the Provost Marshal. 
Paris was fascinating — nearly everybody in some type of 
uniform, and nearly all ornamented with many colored 
decorations. The restaurants and hotels resemble the 
chorus in a musical comedy with its various colors and 
costumes. The English do not wear medals, merely a 
little piece of ribbon. The French pay most cordial atten- 



108 A Happy Warrior 

tion to the United States uniform, and everyone who 
can speak EngHsh greets and entertains you. It is 
strangely pathetic to hear the stories from the front, and 
you realize at once what a salvation our declaration of war 
has been to this people. I have, of course, gained much 
first-hand knowledge from conversations with French and 
English officers, and have ideas concerning the war which 
never entered my mind until now. You cannot but feel 
intensely bitter, and actually cherish your hatred and are 
completely absorbed with the one purpose to fit yourself to 
do your part in crushing such a cruel and relentless foe. 

You know generally my experiences and duties since I 
was fortunate enough to be picked out to come to St. 
Nazaire. At headquarters, I was thrown into close contact 
with the supply end, and came to realize more fully the 
great undertaking of the war. This trip has been still more 
of a lesson, since I have had the chance to see the ships 
coming in from the States with their vast supplies. 

The road to Paris by which I will return, lies in the 
chateau country. We will pass through Angers, Nantes^ 
LaFleche, LeMans, Nogent-le-Rotrou, Chartres, Versailles, 
and then Paris. It sounds like a pleasure jaunt. What will 
be in store for me after that is very indefinite. I hope to 
go at once to a perfection school established well up towards 
the front, to which thirty men will be sent for rapid ad- 
vanced training on speed scout machines. 

I have been in perfect health ever since my departure, 

but no letters yet from the States. 

Your loving son, „, 

William. 



Over Th ere 109 

St. Nazaire, France, 
December 16, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

Another interesting trip, which accounts for the length 
of time between letters. 

Monday I started for a little French town called St. 
Mairent with six Packard trucks and thirteen men. The 
route lay through a beautiful part of France, and the good 
roads stretched out for miles before us. It was aggravating 
to travel at only twelve miles an hour over such marvelous 
roads, but after a long patient ride, at the end of the day, 
we came to a strange little French town called Chatillon 
amid cheers of "Vive TAmerique." It was not hard to tell 
that we were the first American soldiers here, and it was a 
simple matter to obtain quarters for my men; and for myself, 
the most distinguished gentleman in town, M. Louis Ferez, 
inquired for the commanding officer. He was a refugee 
from Lille, and had established an excellent shoe shop here 
until he might return to his home. He took me to his house, 
and put me into a beautifully furnished room, one of the 
few warm spots in France. Needless to say, I was nearly 
frozen after driving all day in the open, perched up on the 
top of a truck on the tenth day of December. A very 
charming family gathered at dinner. It was excellent, but 
most embarrassing to me. Mother and father and the 
young ladies jabbered French at me, and I know nearly all 
were questions. After dinner, it was better. They talked 
slower and got out a "Learn English Over Night" book, with 
which we had great fun and an intelligible conversation. 
I was really pleased to find that I could understand French 



110 A Happy Warrior 

and make myself understood so well, but must admit, they 
encouraged and helped conversation. 

Early the next morning, I bade them adieu and started 
again through the beautiful country, and at lunch time drew 
into Bressuire with two trucks dead on the end of a tow 
line, dry of gasoline. Gasoline has gone beyond being 
scarce; it is impossible to buy it. The French military 
authorities politely said they would spare me some if I 
insisted, but urged me to get it elsewhere. I then was able 
to find a long distance telephone, and was told to wait about 
four hours. I started to spend the time visiting the ruins 
of an old chateau which I spotted on the way, and was 
stopped by an elderly lady, who asked me in good English 
if I were an American. She took me to her house, the finest 
in the town, for tea. It was a beautiful white stone villa, 
and the old lady and her daughter and some guests plied 
me with questions about America. 

At five o'clock, I returned to the trucks, got the men fed 
heartily, and started out for a night trip. At 2:30 in the 
morning, we reached our destination, nearly frozen and 
starved. Again we were unexpected, and ushered into a 
cold dismal barracks to spend the remainder of the night. 
In the early morning, I had the men go over every truck 
before turning them over to the Major for inspection, and 
then came back here by rail. I sat up all night and changed 
cars four times. Tomorrow — back for Paris. 

I have been away from headquarters since Thanksgiving 
Day, and shall be disappointed if I do not find a letter on 
my return. 

Your loving son, William. 



OVE R Th ere 111 

Aviation Section, 
A. E. F., France, 
December 25, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

I have taken the chance of sending to you all, whom I 
have in constant thought, a small present, which, on account 
of its convenient shape, I thought I might ask Miss Hoeveler 
to carry. 

This present means more to me than any other which I 
have ever had the pleasure of giving, and I feel that it will 
be received in the same spirit. 

In the first place, these handkerchiefs were made by a 
woman, at least the monograms, who was once moderately 
well off; but, through the great casualty of war, has been 
forced to eke out whatever small living she can in this 
manner. Her personal loss has been a husband, a son, and 
three brothers. In the next place, they were purchased 
with money which is the first that I feel I have ever really 
earned — maybe not yet, but will in the future. 

Through the unforeseen happenings since last Christmas, 
I have been made to realize the true meaning and feeling of 
this day. It is the first Christmas that I have ever been 
separated from those whom I love, and instead of being a 
day of festivity, it has changed to a day of thought, and one 
that will linger in my memory for years, if I am spared. 
I have had the same isolated feeling on two other days in my 
life, and yet, at the same time, it is one of closer reunion. 
It is a great consolation to me, although at the same time 
I am sorry to think that the greater hardship falls upon 



112 A Happy Warrior 

you at home, who, in your doubt, are worrying about us. 

This thought is uppermost in my mind, and when the 
time for trial shall come, I am sure it will be a stimulus, and 
will bring out the best that is in me; it may be meager, but 
it will at least be my share, and I hope that it will not be a 
disappointment. 

With these small gifts to you all, I send my love and all 
good wishes for a Merry Christmas, as well as for a brighter 
New Year and a happy reunion hereafter. Give my 
fondest remembrances to all who are dear to me. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E. F., France, 
December 27, 1917. 
Dear Father — 

I have just returned from an eventful trip, which was a 
wonderful experience, but terribly hard work. From St. 
Nazaire to Paris is a matter of three hundred miles, and as 
fate would have it, all the elements worked against us. 
We started a week ago last Sunday noon in a blinding, 
soaking rain storm, and at our first stop found rather poor 
quarters at an American Base Hospital. Here I was 
forced to leave two of my men with bad colds. This left 
me one short, and I had to give up my Hudson car and drive 
a truck myself. The next three days we met heavy snow 
storms. The trucks would come to a hill, the wheels would 
spin and get no traction, and we had to take them over one 
by one. They were too heavily loaded. Meantime, some 
of the boys would be letting their motors run in order to 



OVE R Th ere 113 



make the dash, and so our gasoline was used up, and you 
cannot buy a drop. At LeMans, I was up against it. The 
French people gathered about were asking me a thousand 
questions, so I asked a few in return, and found that a 
Belgian camp was located near there, and the Colonel, 
through an interpreter, heard my story and gave me five 
hundred litres of gasoline. I was again forced to get more 
at a large French flying school. So the troubles went on, 
and just one week later, I arrived in Paris with all my 
trucks — thirty-two Packards, thirty Fords and fifteen 
trailers. I had stopped one day to have the boys go over 
the motors. It looked mighty good to see the long line 
draw up before headquarters where all the big men were 
stationed, with every motor in fine running order. The 
weather was continuously bad, bitter cold all the time, either 
hail or snow after the first day. The men complained a 
little at first, but when I left my fine touring car and drove a 
truck myself everyone stopped grumbling. 

On arriving at Paris, I put ten men in the hospital with 
grippe, I am stuffed up somewhat myself with a cold in 
the head. I was anxious about getting here for Christmas, 
and by plugging along forty or fifty miles a day we reached 
here on the 23rd. I was delighted to find a big bunch of 
mail waiting, the first from home. Christmas we spent 
quietly. In the evening we were invited to a Christmas 
gathering and to an elegant dinner at an American gentle- 
man's. 

Today Joe Trees, who has been living with us, received 
orders to go to London to take charge of the personnel in the 



114 A Happy Warrior 

aviation section. It is a good job, and an opportunity for 
advancement. He will get plenty of flying at the English 
schools. My own flying has, of course, been held up by 
my trip, but I am at it again now, and can handle the Spad 
as well as the Nieuport. The Spad is the finest little thing 
imaginable; seemingly fragile, but I think it is stronger 
than a Nieuport. 

I find that I will be sent within the next week to conduct 
an auto truck train of aeroplane material to the front. It 
will, of course, be interesting, but takes me away once more 
from what I want. The commanding officer has asked 
me to transfer from aviation to the transportation depart- 
ment with suggestion of a promotion. I refused so blankly 
that I am afraid I hurt his feelings, which I regret. He is to 
have charge of all the United States automobiles in France, 
and is a very competent officer. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Aviation Section, 
A. E. F., France, 
January 7, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Christmas and New Years have passed, and I must con- 
fess it is a sort of relief to have them over. Although both 
were happy days in so far as the hospitality and very kind 
treatment by friends went, yet there was an indescribable 
lonesomeness which made them strange. 

We have now dipped into the new year, and feel that 
brighter things will come with it. The help from America 



Over Th ere n5 

will surely make itself felt, and the fact that so many of our 
troops are here with so many more to come eager to fight 
and do their part is the only sunshine breaking through the 
dark clouds which still overhang this unfortunate country. 
The French are so down to bone and sinew, and have so 
little physical strength left that it seems to me not so much 
a matter of the moral effect of American intervention, 
although that cannot be overlooked, but it is the actual 
fighting force we can give, and the willingness to fight with 
them and alongside of them against a common cruel enemy. 

And yet, of course, there is great anxiety as to what the 
late winter and early spring may bring. We may have to 
meet troubles and disasters, but now that the A. E. F. are in 
it, there is never a doubt but that we will win. 

My Christmas, away from home in a foreign land at war, 
was as pleasant as could be expected under the circum- 
stances. Mrs. Halley Smith and Mr. and Mrs. Hood were 
very thoughtful and kind, and your fine letters and boxes 
came just in the nick of time. So far, I have had only two 
letters from you, the last dated November 16th. Yester- 
day, Ambassador Sharp was kind enough to call and deliver 
to me your telegram. 

Since my letter of the day after Christmas, I have had 
another trip, even more interesting than the two former 
ones. If it had not been for the terrific cold, it would have 
been as enjoyable as it was of interest every minute. It 
was my first visit to the front. I do not mean the first line 
trenches, but near enough so that I could hear the continual 
roar of our own artillery, and see the bursting shells of the 



116 A Happy Warrior 

enemy, and the Allied planes in their reconnaissance work. 

Without glasses, they look like mere dots, and an amateur 
cannot tell the friendly from the hostile. It was an im- 
pressive sight, and it is hard to believe that such harmless 
looking specks in the sky can be made instruments of so 
much help and so much destruction. I had a chance to see 
a good bit of the country, and passed through towns which 
have been practically obliterated by the artillery and avia- 
tion fire of former battles. 

Now I am returning to my former situation, and find a 
new job awaiting, which keeps me busy in the mornings. 
Afternoons are free, and I spend all the time flying — to 
Villa Coubley as usual, first a little work on the machine 
and then into the air. Aeroplanes are becoming attached 
to my life as companions and pets. There are two kinds in 
particular, the Nieuport and the Spad, which I alternate in 
flying, and if I get out early enough, take a flight in each. 
It may seem inconceivable to you — sometimes it does to me 
— but now I think no more of it than driving an automobile. 
Even if the novelty has worn off, there is a continuous 
pleasure. It reminds me of golf in that there is so much to 
learn, and you always have the feeling that you can do 
better in your next flight. Hope springs eternal in an 
aviator's breast. Twice, I have flown high over Paris. It 
is a wonderful sight to see the straight avenues radiating 
from the Arc d' Etoile, and to see the parks like dabs in the 
midst of a vast city. Now, I have had a bird's-eye view of 
London and Paris. I wonder what next. 

I have a world of interesting stories to tell, which I have 



OvE R Th ere nr 

gathered from the many people in all the walks of home 
and military life I am constantly meeting. Some day, if 
I am spared, I can tell them by the fireside. 

Thank Mrs. Campbell, George B., Anne, Helen, Christine, 
and Aunt Jennie for all their remembrances; letters also 
from Eleanor and Weeanne. I will write everybody the 
first chance I get, but now, in the evenings of my busy days, 
I am very tired. You would entirely approve my habits — 
early to bed and .... 

Love to you and Eleanor and all the rest. Am well. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E. F., France, 
January 14, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Boxes by the score have been coming, and believe me, 
they are appreciated. A very nice package came from 
Allen and Christine, and one which made me laugh and cry 
from dear old Smut (Ward Smith of Virginia). Letters, 
though, do not yet come regularly. I have received only 
very few of the many which must have been written, but 
one cannot complain considering the short time the system 
has been established for the scattered soldiers' mail, and the 
great confusion that was caused when all the Christmas 
packages arrived just as the new mailing system was put 
into effect. 

I have not told you before, on purpose, that one of my 
steamer trunks was lost at Southampton. Only yesterday 
word came from the Quartermaster that it had been found. 



118 A Happy Warrior 

It contained, of course, all the things that I wanted most — 
all my warm flying clothes — and so what I couldn't draw 
from the Quartermaster I have had to do without. 

I was surprised and delighted the other day to be informed 
that I will probably be sent to England to attend, with four 
of the other boys, an aerial gunnery school. The course 
will last about four weeks, then to a perfection school for 
two weeks. On finishing the latter course, the men are 
fully trained and held in readiness for use "somewhere." 
I understand my name is on the list, and the minute I hear 
definitely, I will cable you and let you know as much as the 
censor will permit. The trip across the Channel under 
present conditions is terrible, but I will be glad to go to 
England. Maybe I will have a chance to fly across. The 
British Royal Flying Corps sets the pace for training and 
getting a flyer into active, useful service at the front. 

I have had a splendid opportunity to see the cities and 
the country and the different people in each throughout 
France. My impressions are as various as the localities. 
The people in the country places, Uke our friends in lower 
Canada, seem, from our American point of view, merely to 
exist, and yet appear to be satisfied. I sometimes think 
that they are the happier. One visiting the country south 
of Paris would hardly know there was a war, except that so 
many of the men and older boys are absent. One discom- 
fort I have never escaped so far is the dreadful cold. Muf- 
flers and rubbers are constantly worn. There is, of course, 
a great scarcity of wood and coal. Food, on the other hand, 
seems to be plentiful and good — all except the concoction 



OVE R Th ere 119 

known as war bread, which is a constant reminder of war. 

It is amusing now for me to think of the things of which 
we used to complain. Talk about the telephone — if you 
cannot get a chance to use one installed by our Signal 
Corps, you do without it. The real aristocracy of Paris now 
are the taxicab drivers. They are given a certain allowance 
of gasoline per week, and it makes the drivers so proud that 
only if you happen to be going in the direction in which the 
taxi is headed, and in which the driver desires to go, and are 
not going too far, will he carry you. Otherwise you can 
walk; and the walking is good in Paris. 

Except possibly for the morals of an American in uniform, 
the Yankee soldier clothes are surely a valuable drawing 
card here. If they can only be as repulsive to the Germans 
as they are attractive to the French, we will win the war 
very soon, but do not overlook one thing which will help to 
bring it about — France is a brave nation, and has done its 
share, and will yet do more. 

Love to all, 

Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E. F., France, 
January 25, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Life for me continues one of comfort rather than of strife. 
My work is still in the vicinity of Paris, and although it is 
very strenuous, with long hours, I can look forward to my 
comfortable room in the evening. I am able now only to 
have two afternoons and Sunday off for flying, but it is not 



120 A Happy Warrior 

so essential as before, because my instruction is practically 
at an end. I have not, however, yet had the training in 
aerial gunnery, but this is only a matter of a three weeks' 
course, and I am expecting orders any day to report at that 
school. 

All the acrobatics and squadron flying, really the two 
most difl&cult phases of aerial work, are completed. The 
acrobatics consist of three stunts which sound impossible in 
description, and which would draw a thousand dollars a 
flight in exhibition at a side show, but in these machines 
(Spads) are not so much. 

The first is a vertical spiral with the motor cut off and a 
continual bank of 90°. It is very difficult to keep your 
spirals even and to keep your machine in a vertical position. 

The second is the side-slip, and is most valuable in fight- 
ing, as it is the quickest way to get away from the enemy if 
he gains the superior position on you. In this, you place 
your machine in a vertical bank and allow her to fall 
vertically towards the ground off on one side. In this way, 
you can lose about three thousand feet in less than one 
minute. It is much faster than the vertical nose dive. 

The third, which is really beautiful, and looks very diffi- 
cult, but is not, is what the French call the renversement. 
This is also very valuable in fighting, as it is the quickest 
way to turn when being pursued by the enemy. While flying 
along level, you suddenly pull the nose up into the air, let 
her slip to one side over on her back, then nose her to the 
ground and come out going in the opposite direction. All 
of these movements in five seconds. It seems most compli- 




-■O 



OVE R Th ere 121 

cated, but it is necessary for you to learn it in forty-five 
minutes. You practice the movement on the ground for 
some time before you go up, and then you try it. Many get 
into the vrille, or tail spin, the first few times until they 
finally get it. It is very pretty to watch, and the sensa- 
tions at first are quite unpleasant; later you do not mind it 
at all. The remarkable part is that no altitude is lost in the 
entire operation. You may understand it better from my 
rough pen and ink sketches. (See page 130.) 

This must sound like a month's training, but at the end 
of three days on the acrobatic field, you are doing them 
all. So much for flying. 

The other night, Harry Colburn, who is here temporarily 
from Lyon, and I went to see a good show. A great 
deal of it was English; in fact, most of the songs. They 
had an American Jazz band, which is the hit of the show. 
The French people simply go wild over it. 

Last night, I had dinner at the Restaurant Tour D 'Argent 
which we were told is the oldest restaurant in Paris. In the 
evening, Lieutenants Ormsby, Colburn, Schuyler and I 
played bridge. Tonight, I am going to call on Ambassador 
Sharp. It is really the first opportunity which I have had. 

Everything is very uncertain at present. There are 
many rumors concerning the spring and what it will bring 
with it. Everybody is in doubt. I have not the faintest 
idea of what my movements will be. However, I feel 
confident that definite orders will arrive for me soon, having 
been told that my present job is only temporary. As long 
as this lasts, you have no need to worry about my safety 



122 A Happy Warrior 

and comfort. I have everything that one could wish. 

My mail from the States is very uncertain. I have heard 
nothing from any of you for nearly a month. One must 
satisfy himself over here that "no news is good news," or 
you are seldom in a satisfied frame of mind. 

Hoping that you are well and happy, and that the de- 
privations of war are being accepted willingly, as I judge 
from the papers that you are suffering more than we are 
from them, I remain with love to all, 

Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E. F., France, 

January 28, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Your letter of December 17th, with its Christmas greet- 
ing, has just come, and I had to blush as I read of your 
feelings and your sympathy. I have more comforts than 
I am entitled to, and if you all had been with me, my 
Christmas would have been indeed a merry one. As I 
wrote, your welcome boxes arrived in perfect time, and Mrs. 
Hood and Mrs. Halley-Smith took us three into their 
homes in the kindest hoHday spirit. 

Your letter speaking of the numerous accidents in the 
States makes one think, but I can assure you that if traced 
to their source, it will be found that the principal cause is 
carelessness. We have had four bad accidents here, and all 
of them were due either to carelessness or lack of skill, 
which can be traced back to carelessness, in letting an in- 
experienced flyer assume too much. Two of the accidents 



OvE R Th ere 123 

last Saturday were unnecessary, and an exhibition of how 
not to fly. Both the boys got out miraculously well — no 
bones broken nor internal injuries. One of them, while he 
is just as good as he was before, will have a different face, 
and may have to introduce himself to former friends. 

As I continue with my work, my confidence becomes 
greater, and I feel sure that it is, making some allowances, 
as safe as any other pursuit in war. When I talk with 
other young men who have really done something, I feel 
like an emhusque. They are all so enthusiastic about flying, 
and their casualties have been so few. In fact, the French 
infantry look upon their flyers as embusques. This ought 
to be a comfort to you, even if it is a reflection on me. 

I forgot to tell you that we have electrically heated fur 
combination suits, helmets and shoes. The wires run 
inside the lining, and the electricity is generated from a 
little motor with a propeller set out on one wing of the 
aeroplane. The air current caused by the speed rotates the 
propeller of the motor, thus generating the electricity. 

The pictures from home were like a reunion. I brought 
your picture and mother's, and am sorry I have not the rest. 
I realize now how much I would appreciate them, as I 
feel sure that it will be a long time before I will be able 
to return and see any of you. At times, the prospects are 
bright, and then again the outlook, while, of course, not hope- 
less, is gloomy. Some of the Lafayette Esquadrille boys with 
whom I have been playing around, tell me that the feeling 
at the front has decidedly changed in the last month. They 
are sure that it will be a bad spring, a big German offensive 



124 A Happy Warrior 

and severe fighting. We will have to go through it before 
the backbone of the enemy is broken, and it will take our 
help — after that, calmer sailing. The British feel the same 
way, terrible work this spring, and the worst will be over. 
Now, too, the Russians seem to be coming into their own 
again, and will not allow the Germans to bull-doze them. 
I sincerely hope they will continue to be a thorn in 
Germany's eastern side. 

Last week, the bunch of us made the rounds of the 
interesting restaurants in Paris, Each gave a dinner for the 
others at the different places, Veil's, LaRue, Giro's, 
Henri's, and Tour d'Argent. The last, said to be the oldest 
restaurant in Paris, I like best. Pressed duck, with elabo- 
rate procedure at the large center table, similar to the way 
our fine red-heads are squeezed and served at the Detroit 
Club, was the piece de resistance of my menu. 

Hastily yours. With love to all. Am well. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E, F., France, 
February 2, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

I have had a great experience since my last letter to you. 
Although it had been rumored for several weeks, the air raid 
on Paris the other night took everybody by surprise. I 
think that it was not really expected, and now that the 
heathenish thing has happened, the feeling of hatred and 
indignation is intense. 



OVE R Th ere 125 

I had been down town for supper, and afterwards to the 
Theatre CoUisee on the Champs Elysees. As we left the 
theatre, we spoke of the beauty of the evening. The sky 
was filled with stars, and there was a beautiful full moon, 
and somebody remarked that it was the kind of a night to 
raid Paris. Several evenings before, I had called on 
Ambassador Sharp, and he had said that he did not believe 
that Paris would be raided until after Germany had made 
further peace offerings. I told this to the boys, and we 
concluded he must be right, and dismissed the thought of a 
raid from our minds. A short time afterwards, when we 
were sitting around talking about anything but air raids, 
the warning siren sounded twice. It was notice of an on- 
coming raid. We immediately extinguished all the lights 
and went out on the balcony. Fire engines rushed through 
the streets sending warnings additional to the two blasts 
of the siren. There was little confusion on the streets, 
although people and taxis did not wander aimlessly about. 
It was about the same rush you would see on Wall Street 
during the noon hour. 

We waited for the next development, and a kind of sickly 
feeling came over me, due, I think, to utter helplessness. 
This was soon driven away by the intense excitement, and 
the noise of aeroplanes, guns and bombs. This, sometime, 
might be my line of action, I thought, and I soon calmed 
down, and looked on with the intention of learning as much 
as I could from my poor post of observation. The motors 
of the French planes could be heard distinctly in their 
patrol work over the city. In the distance, we could hear 



126 A Happy Warrior 

the sharp crack of the anti-aircraft guns, and this cleared 
any doubt that the raiders were really coming. Then 
came the sound of the German motors and the red, white 
and green lights of the French machines could be seen 
flitting across the sky. The accompanying danger was 
next brought more vividly to our minds by the hollow 
sounding explosion of the bombs dropping every few 
minutes. This lasted for fifteen minutes, and again the 
city was quiet except for the hum of the French motors, 
an entirely different sound from the German motor. About 
twenty minutes later, the anti-aircraft guns again announced 
an approach. Many colored signal lights could be seen, 
and the thundering of guns lasted for half an hour. During 
this last period, the German machines could not be seen, 
but from the sound of their motors (it was easy to dis- 
tinguish them), we judged them to be about six thousand 
feet in the air. The French machines, on the other hand, 
were visible nearly all the time, and flew at about one 
thousand feet. While we were watching, the sky suddenly 
lighted up, and we saw a machine fall enveloped in flames. 
The next day, we learned that it was a German machine 
of the Gotha II type. One of our machines, in endeavoring 
to make a forced landing in the Place de la Concorde, 
struck an unlighted iron electric light post, and both pilot 
and observer lost their lives. It was wonderful to watch 
the French machines signalling to one another, and at the 
same time receiving signals from the ground. Once more 
the siren sounded, and we knew that our first raid was 
over, and that the hostile machines had returned to their 






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OVE R Th ere 127 

bases. The losses, as published in the newspaper, esti- 
mated the deaths at forty-five, and the injured at two 
hundred and seven. 

The other evening, as I mentioned, I called on Mr. 
Sharp. I arrived before he had returned from the Embassy, 
and in the interval, I had a pleasant visit with Mrs. Sharp, 
the daughter and two sons. They were very cordial. Mr. 
Sharp did not seem to be able to do enough for me, and 
insisted that I call every time that I am in Paris — that 
the latch string will hang out for me. He said he was 
writing you. 

The box with the cards from Ethel, Joseph and Kumano, 
came today, and I can assure you it was not kept waiting 
at the door. I was down to the last cigarette. 

Hoping that you are all as well and happy as I am, 
Your loving son, 

William. 

A. E. F., France, 
February 10, 1918. 
Dear Wain — 

Believe me, I was mighty glad to hear from you. My 
letters from the States have been irregular and far between, 
and a little news from a good friend goes a long way. 

Life here is so different from what I have been accustomed 
to, that I long for a word from home and friends. It has 
been my fortune to be one of a large family, and to associate 
with them and with long-time friends from childhood. 
Now, I am in contact with acquaintances who were strang- 
ers yesterday. New faces come and go each day. I am 



128 A Happy Warrior 

often lonely, and yearn for the old familiar faces. I don't 
like to be alone, and fortunately am very busy all the day- 
light hours. This occupies your mind, and you only think 
of what your part in the great game of war may be. 
I am afraid sometimes that my ambitions, even as an 
aviator, soar a bit too high. 

Let me tell you what I have been doing since my arrival, 
and I think you will realize that a good deal has been 
accomplished. We were sent at once to an advanced 
training school, where we practically had to learn flying all 
over. In the States, we flew what is called the "Dep" 
control with a wheel. Here we fly a stick control — a lever 
instead of a wheel. You are started on a large aeroplane 
with a low-powered motor, and as you improve, the ma- 
chines become smaller and the motors very high-powered. 
When you reach the stage of instruction where you have 
mastered the Nieuport 15 with 120 H. P. motor, you are 
ready for your acrobatics or stunt flying. Three stunts 
among others, which are used to great advantage in fighting, 
must be mastered perfectly before going further. The first 
is the vertical spiral. In this, you put your machine in a 
position perpendicular to the earth instead of the normal 
parallel position, slip towards the ground in spirals and a 
steep slide. This sounds simple, but your machine can get 
into many different positions if you are not exceedingly 
careful. The second acrobatic is the vertical side-slip, 
which is of the utmost value in falling away from your 
pursuer, if he gains the superior position. It is peculiar 
that a machine will fall with greater speed off to one side 



Over Th ere m 

than it will forwards. This is because in the vertical side- 
slip, in which the machine is tilted sideways to a vertical 
position, all air pressure of the wing surface is removed, 
and the machine falls free. The last and most important 
and difficult is the renversement, which is used for making a 
quick turn without losing any altitude. The higher you are, 
the better and safer. The whole operation takes about five 
seconds. The machine is pulled upwards, and at the same 
time thrown over on its back. It is then pointed towards 
the ground, and brought out going in the opposite direction. 
It is mighty hard to explain it in words, but you may get 
some conception of the movements from my crude drawings. 
(See next page.) When you are first learning this trick, you 
nearly always do a loop or tail spin because of over-control. 
Every student, in learning, has much experience with loops 
and tail spins, and so they do not teach you how to do them, 
but how to get out of them. After completing these acro- 
batics, which is ordinarily done in three days' time, you arc 
placed on a regular fighting machine, either a Spad 180 H. P. 
motor or a 15 metre Nieuport. With this, you practice 
what you have learned so far, and then are instructed in 
squadron flying, such as "V" formations, rectangular 
formations and the like. The days of individual fighting 
have just about passed away. You and your squadron 
now fight the German with his squadron. After you have 
finished your squadron formation flying, the next step is 
training in aerial gunnery, a course of two or three weeks' 
duration. It is at this point that I am now, but by the time 
you receive this letter, I hope to have seen some active 
service. 



130 



A Happy Warrior 




Over Th ere 13j[ 

The work continues to be more and more fascinating, and 
in my opinion, it is the highest and most important branch of 
the service. These little machines, with their terrific speed of 
130 miles an hour, give you sensations absolutely new to 
human experience. You understand that I am in chasse 
work, scout pursuit fighting, not bombing or observation or 
photographic work. I wish I had time to explain the so- 
called ''contact" work, and how important it will be in 
winning battles by giving aid and diminishing the loss to the 
troops with which the aeronaut is in contact. 

The other night, I witnessed my first air raid. It was 
thrilling enough for my quiet nature. The rumor that it 
was coming was beginning to be considered a false alarm, 
and almost forgotten, when the long expected siren, an- 
nouncing the raid, was sounded. It was about 11:30, and 
ten minutes later, the German machines were over Paris. 
After the warning, there was the long sickening wait, and a 
feeling of total helplessness. No place was safe. Then, 
in the distance, the sharp crack of the anti-aircraft guns 
could be heard, followed by the low hum of the German 
motors. The sound became more and more distinct, then 
the hollow thundering of the bombs could be heard. The 
helpless feeling grows upon you, as you hear one bomb fall in 
front, then one behind, then on either side. You are sure 
the next will find you. As we stood on the balcony of our 
room, other motors could be heard flying low, and then we 
could see the French machines, with their little red, white 
and green lights, flit about, signaling to each other. Their 
motors have a distinctly different sound from the German 



132 A Happy Warrior 

motors. After fifteen minutes of this uproar, the city was 
again plunged in silence, except for the sound of an oc- 
casional French plane. Only a short period elapsed, how- 
ever, before the anti-aircraft guns again began their deadly 
work. Two machines were forced to land; one, a French- 
man who had motor trouble; the other a German, whose 
machine fell in flames. This lasted about a quarter of an 
hour, until the enemy planes returned to their bases. The 
invaders were evidently divided into two groups, and took 
the city from opposite sides at about a half an hour's 
interval. 

The damage done to buildings was considerable, but no 
military advantage was accomplished. The loss of life was 
estimated at several hundred. It is a disgusting, dastard 
way of carrying on war, and unless it becomes absolutely 
necessary to fight fire with fire, I hope we may not be called 
upon to retaliate. 

I have now spent quite a while in and about Paris, and 
evidently it is not the old Paris of which we have heard. 
The city is in darkness at 9 :30 every evening. The women 
without chaperons are so numerous, and so affectionate to 
soldiers that one has to fight them off. If you sit down in a 
restaurant, they think it is their duty to teach you French 
and begin babbling fondly at once. On account of the 
novelty, I think, the American uniform is the attraction, 
regardless of the man in it, and the wings of the aviator 
seem to make it more so. The worst of it is, we now wear 
double wings in the place of the single one, which makes us 
just so much more conspicuous. 



OVE R Th ere 133 

Well, Wain, I hope this is not too long and too much about 
myself to bore you, but I am in a world alone with unknown 
people, and there is little else to talk about to an old friend 
like yourself. At any rate these are only the beginnings of 
tales I hope to tell you some day. 

I was mighty glad to hear that you were so much better, 
and hope that you will not have to sever connections with 
Detroit. It will not prevent me from visiting you, though, 
if I am spared to go back. You have picked my favorite 
country in the States for travel, and I hope to be knocking 
on your door as a guest sometime. As for the young lady, 
give her my best, and tell her for me how fortunate I think 
she is. Heartiest congratulations, and the best of luck 
to you. 

As ever, 

Bill. 
To Mr. Charles Wainwright Stephens, 
Albuquerque, 

New Mexico, U. S. A. 



A. E. F., France, 
February 15, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

My daily routine is about the same as usual — plenty of 
physical work and an abundance of safety and good health. 
My instruction is rapidly drawing to a close. There is 
not the slightest cause of alarm for you, however. Many 
things will probably occur, and much time will pass before 
the crucial test comes. Outside of one or two rubs, I have 



134 A Happy Warrior 

known nothing but comfort. This does not include any 
frills like the grate fire in the library and home cooking, 
but I have had reminders of home in the fine boxes which 
have been arriving every day. Many others besides my- 
self join in thanking you all for being good angels. 

My flying, of late, has been much more regular, and I 
feel that I have almost acquired the art, even on these 
little high-powered 130-mile-an-hour machines. It is truly 
a pleasure to fly one. Their response to the slightest move 
is so quick. As one of the boys said, "If you wish to turn 
to the right, you merely think it, and you are headed in 
that direction." The days now are busily occupied. After 
flying for an hour or so, we attend classes in practical 
motor work, in learning how to correct jams of machine 
guns, in adjusting a compass, in leading a squadron, in 
drawing maps, in bombing, and last of all, in shooting with 
a revolver at a stationary object, with a rifle at a moving 
object, with a shot gun at clay pigeons, and finally, with a 
machine gun at balloons (toy). My favorite recreation is 
the squadron flying, although it is very difficult. We go 
off on long tours all over the country — just follow the 
leader through the blue and the clouds. I have not had a 
chance yet of leading one of these cotillons, but I am sure 
my time will come soon. Then, in all spare moments, we 
practice acrobatics, and repeat the stunts in the air over 
and over again. 

The mail is now beginning to come much more on sched- 
ule, and I have received as many as five letters in one day. 
Two of them were from Europe, Cousin Catharine Leggat 



OvE R Th ere 135 

in England, and Erie Devlin in France; also a nice box of 
what the English officers call "sweeties" from Cousin Maud 
Ledyard. Anne and Helen's carefully packed box, when 
it reached me, contained only the remnant of a box of figs, 
a paper of salted peanuts, and two tins of bouillon tablets, 
for which I am grateful, but have not yet any great 
need. 

I had the pleasure of dining the other evening with 
Major William Thaw, late of the Lafayette Esquadrille^ 
who came to the field to inspect. We had a long talk about 
the Hill School, and I was able to get him to tell a few of 
his experiences. I am sure that I have done right in my 
choice. To be a chasse pilot aviator is the highest type 
of war service. I wish I could write you more. I know it 
would interest you, and feel sure that it would be consoling 
as well. I would like to have you feel as I do — safe and 
happy in the air, and only waiting to do my share. 

I gather from your letters that you have suffered more 
from cold weather in Detroit than we, who are not actually 
in the trenches, have in France. For a time, it was very cold 
and disagreeable, but the latter half of January and so far 
into February, it has not been unpleasant except that al- 
ways for flying the damp, misty mornings are most un- 
comfortable. In camp, there is no evidence of food short- 
age — good white bread and plenty of sugar. The roast 
beef, however, is not above suspicion, and on beef day, we 
diet to a certain extent. On the whole, our mess is very 
good — certainly good enough. One thing of which we never 
have enough is cigarettes. Remember that it is impossible 



136 A Happy Warrior 

to send too many. Occasionally the canteen will get a 
shipment, and you ought to see the rush. 

It is fine to know that all of you, and there are so many, 
are well at home. Add me to the list. I really never felt 
better — out of doors all day long, and for that matter, 
night too, continually occupied with congenial work. 
Love to all. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E. F., France, 
February 23, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

To my disappointment, I am again located where I can 
get no flying. It goes against the grain with me to stay on 
the ground all the time, and at that, shut in an office trying 
to fix my attention upon things far away from my thoughts. 
It is only because I am promised that it will be a short 
assignment that I am reconciled to endure it. 

I helped yesterday to pack a motor of one of the Zep- 
pelins which was brought down in France at the time 
Germany lost seven in a bunch after an unsuccessful raid 
on England. It was the L-49, and is being shipped to 
Washington for exhibition purposes. It is a huge motor, 
one of four which a zeppelin carries. I do not wonder that 
Germany proposes to give up this means of inhuman bom- 
bardment with the small results attained. The only reason 
seems to be, however, that she thinks the frightfulness is 
not commensurate with the expense. 

I have heard that Maury has given up pilot's work, and 



OvE R Th ere 137 

gone into the observation end of flying, and that he is now 
at the front, flying as an observer for a French pilot. Ed. 
Buford, whom you will remember, my room-mate in Chi- 
cago, has done exceedingly well, and is now at the front 
flying a Spad chasse machine in the French Esquadrille. 
He has had four or five encounters, but has not got a Boche 
to his credit yet. I am sure it won't be long before he will 
make a record. Andy King has also left us, and is working 
on a Breguet in day bombing work. He is perfectly in- 
fatuated with the game, and is endeavoring to get the rest 
of us to give up chasse work and go with him. It is not 
such a terrible strain on a man, as you are accompanied 
by another, who is just as much interested in watching 
for trouble as you are. This, too, is unquestionably the 
future manner of air fighting, as the time now for the sport 
of individual combat is over. In modern aerial warfare, 
your squadron takes on another squadron, and if you 
happen to be cut off, and are alone, then only do you have 
to take on another machine or another squadron by your- 
self. The boys with the French squadron, the old Lafay- 
ette Esquadrille men, tell me that the time for two-place 
machines and strict squadron flying has come. You must 
either keep in formation or drop out and beat it for your 
aerodrome. Of course, however, if you are cut off and 
attacked by an enemy squadron, or can tackle one or two 
Boches, you will fight them. 

My last letter from you was dated January 28th, written 
from Atlantic City, The insignia and a package from Helen 
arrived, and papers and magazines come regularly. Aside 



138 A Happy Warrior 

from French newspapers, we keep up with the world news 
in three English papers — the New York Herald of France, 
the Chicago Tribune of France, and the American Daily- 
Mail. You really get far more foreign news than we do, 
except, of course, what we are able to see and hear from 
others over here. 

It is amazing to learn what a number of Americans were 
and are in the French and British service. 

I can report perfect health as usual, a little too fat if 
anything for my present job. I have not been bothered 
with a cold since my stormy auto truck trips in December, 
and fortunately, my stomach now relishes army food more 
than the club delicacies. 

With love to all. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E. F., France, 
March 2, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Everything is running smoothly, and I am keeping in 
the best of condition — a perfectly safe job; no need for 
anyone to worry. 

Last night Angus Smith invited me to dine with Julie 
Russel and himself at the Hotel Petrograd. I could not 
go because of a previous engagement with the Sepulchres, 
a French family who have been very nice to me. Lieu- 
tenant Lazare, whom I met at St. Nazaire, where he had 
charge of the German prisoners, married one of the three 
Sepulchre daughters. He gave me a letter of introduction 



OVE R Th ere 139 

and they have been very cordial, and I have had several 
delightful dinners at their house — not only delightful, but 
humorous. None of them speaks English, and I must either 
speak French or silence rules the board. Their politeness 
is wonderful; they never smile even at my French. Two 
sons are in the war — one in the infantry and one in aviation. 
Evening before last was spent with Ed. Buford and 
Lieutenant Adams, formerly of the French Flying Corps, 
and I have not had such an interesting time in many a day. 
Adams talked from four in the afternoon until eleven 
o'clock in the evening; not in any boastful way, but pic- 
turing conditions, and giving us advice. Once more I 
realized, although my training is practically completed, 
how little I knew. You have got to be there to know. We 
will probably start at the front in French squadrons, two 
of us amateurs flying with sixteen experienced pilots 
in formation, where we will be able to witness the combats 
and hear and see the shrapnel bursting about us. In this 
way, we will accustom ourselves to actual air-war condi- 
tions, and at the same time, be nursed and protected by 
experienced aviators. This will probably continue for two 
months. An interesting thing he told me was that one 
evening he was turned over, bottom side up, five times 
from the concussion of large shells; another that you are 
a great deal safer twenty miles behind the German lines 
than directly over the front. Another thing, which seemed 
contrary to what I had heard, was that it will be impossible 
to do away with the little machines, one seaters or mono- 
planes, because they are necessary to protect the large 



140 A Happy Warrior 

machines. If we had large machines only, and not a suffi- 
cient number of scout planes to protect them, the Germans, 
with their small fast machines, would play havoc with our 
craft. 

The first of the Liberty motors have been received. I 
was fortunate enough to have a look at them but have not 
yet seen one running. There are great tales concerning 
what they can actually do. I am so proud of them, and 
glad to see something so great from home, that I feel like 
taking the liberty of hugging one. 

I met Washie Patterson from Ann Arbor the other night, 
when I was dining with my friend, Lieutenant Reilly, now 
a Captain, who has been so kind to me at St. Nazaire and 
Paris. Washie was at the Hill, and is now enlisted in the 
French Artillery, stationed at Fontainbleau. I have run 
across Billy McKim, too. He is also a Hill boy, and is a 
Private in the Medical Corps, working on a new form of 
gas. Speaking of gas; the new German stuff is terrible to 
cope with. It is an invention of the devil, and not only 
destroys your eyes, throat and lungs, but will penetrate 
your clothes, and burns into the body wherever it is moist. 

The newspapers today are far from encouraging — Rus- 
sia's flat demoralization and Rumania's rumored peace 
terms. That poor little country has suffered so fearfully, 
and is so unprotected that one cannot help but think that 
it has some reason to hunt cover; but will they find it? 

Yesterday, a letter came from Colonel Hutton, enclosing 
a communication from Colonel Littebrant to General 
Pershing, inquiring for the whereabouts of the Honorable 



OVE R Th ere 14jL 

Henry Russel's son, and his correct address. Reply was 
made in true military form, and through the proper army 
channels. You have, no doubt, heard from me in the 
meantime. The system is much improved, and your mail 
now comes more regularly. Your last box with the Deities 
and Omars was truly a benefaction. Cigarettes, as usual, 
are few and far between. 

Well, father, to my great disappointment I am again for 
a time away from flying, only waiting for further orders. 
My next assignment is as much a mystery to me as to you. 
Am in the best of health. With love to all. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E. F., France, 
March 12, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

I am still stationed in a quiet place. The only dangerous 
instrument near at hand is a typewriter, and the only 
disturbing action is that the welcome spring breezes muss 
the paper. 

I have had a ripple of pleasant excitement today. Colonel 
Hutton writes that orders for me are en route. It looks as 
if my days of leisure are rapidly drawing to a close. It has 
been a quiet rest, and I am in the pink of health and condi- 
tion, except a little too plump, A couple of weeks' good 
work-out in the real service for which I am pining, and I 
will soon reduce myself to normal. 

I was shocked to read this morning that Wallie Winters, 
one of the boys whom I have got to know best, was killed 



142 A Happy Warrior 

yesterday in a fight with four Boche machines. Just a 
week ago, he was credited with bringing down his first 
adversary, a two-seated Gotha, which I can assure you is 
something of a feat. He is only twenty-two years old. 
Only two weeks ago, Wallie and Andy King and I spent a 
pleasant evening together at the Hotel Crillon. He was 
bold and brave, even to rashness, and as he told us of his 
high ambitions and what he expected to accomplish, I 
feared that without a little more prudence, his time would 
soon come. 

Last Friday night, I experienced my third air raid. The 
second was more of a scare than anything else, but the 
third was the real thing, although the damage done was 
not as severe as the first. I think this was due to the fact 
that the French were much better prepared this time. 
The anti-aircraft barrage was much more accurate and 
strong. We saw, once more, an enemy's machine fall in 
flames in the city. When the warning sounded. Captain 
Reilly, Lieutenant Gulliver and I were calling at the 
Sepulchres, and although they were thoughtful of others, 
one could not imagine a more terrified family. The door- 
bell rang a thousand times, and people from the street, 
especially women and little children, were taken in and 
allowed to go down into the cellar. We, who were in the 
house, took shelter in a room on the second floor, and all 
the lights were turned out. Then the family, distracted 
with terror, turned to me for salvation, and on their knees 
with prayerful pleas, asked why I did not do something. 
We waited patiently for about twenty minutes for the 



OvE R Th ere 143 

Gothas to arrive, but nothing could be heard except the 
screeching sirens and the low roar of the French motors 
patrolling the city, while here and there you could dis- 
tinguish their colored lights. For a moment, relief came 
with the thought that it was merely another alarm, but 
before I could suggest it, the crack of the aircraft guns 
began. A few minutes later, the low hollow roar of the 
bombs was heard. The raid came in three waves, and 
lasted nearly three hours. The family and the people who 
had gathered in the house were restored to a state of quiet 
and self-control before we left. None was injured, and we 
were unable to learn much about the loss elsewhere until 
Sunday morning — about thirty killed and fifty wounded. 

I could not help but think how fortunate, if one can say 
that, it is that the Boches have chosen to raid London so 
much and not Paris. I am sure the French, with all their 
amazing bravery and endurance, could not bear to be under 
continued and repeated attacks of this kind. They are 
too high-strung. They are, however, preparing against 
numerous raids on Paris. All the valuable statuary and 
buildings are being carefully sandbagged and boarded up. 
The Arc de Triomphe is practically covered, likewise 
Napoleon's Column. 

Sunday, we confiscated one of Uncle Sam's automobiles, 
and started out on a very educational, as well as interest- 
ing trip through Versailles and Villa Coubley. At Ver- 
sailles, we collided quite through accident, and I assure 
you it was an accident, with two venerable Y. M. C. A. 
ladies, who took it upon themselves that we should not 



144 A Happy Warrior 

leave Versailles without seeing the sights. Helpless as 
lambs, we were collared and led about through streets and 
galleries and palaces. If you want to know anything about 
Versailles, we can furnish the information. Thanks to our 
elderly friends, I can vouch for the group that nothing was 
overlooked. 

Later: The siren, giving the warning of another raid, 
has just sounded. The lights will be extinguished at any 
moment. I will delay my letter until quiet comes. 

Everything is now over, and, thank God, all of my 
friends, as far as I can learn, are safe and sound as before. 
However, I am afraid that it will prove to be the worst 
raid yet. 

They are thrilling to watch and you boil with rage at 
your helplessness and such despicable and useless cruelty. 

But to conclude my story of Versailles: After we had 
seen everything possible and heard it described in detail, 
we were able to beat a polite but masterly retreat from our 
instructive friends and get to our car, with loss only of 
time. I then took it upon myself to lead the squadron. 
None of the party had ever been near an aeroplane so I 
took them to Villa Coubley. The machines were landing 
and taking off directly in front of us, so that the party could 
see their entire mechanism and action. They seemed to 
be appalled at the smallness of some of the planes, and the 
bigness of others. One machine, the largest in the world, 
was there with a wing spread of one hundred and sixty-five 
feet. I was proud to be able to introduce the party to 
some of my fine friends at the field, and after that we 






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Mss. of first page of letter of Mar. 20, 1918 



OvE R Th ere 145 

drove around and made a close inspection of the damage 

done by the air raid. 

An automobile ride on a beautiful spring day, with such 

remarkable and interesting incidents, would be the event 

of a lifetime to many people. 

Love to all. Well. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Aviation Section, 
American Expeditionary Forces, 
Via New York. 
Dear Father — 

Thanks to our mutual friend, Colonel Hutton, I am again 
stationed at an aviation camp, where I am able to get all 
the flying that one desires, the only hindrance being bad 
weather. Last Friday evening I promised to have dinner 
with Julie Russel, but owing to a terrible explosion in one 
of the munition dumps in the neighborhood of Paris I was 
unable to meet her. 

At the time I had some three hundred and fifty troops at 
my disposal, together with ten trucks, when word came from 
Captain Reilly to rush all to the scene of the accident and to 
place them at the services of the French authorities. This I 
did, and I can assure you we were among the first to arrive 
at the scene. Everywhere within a circuit of three miles, 
men, women and children could be seen running about 
hysterically with bad face and scalp wounds, the result of 
broken glass. 

The Red Cross and Y. M. C. A. workers handled all 
these cases and we rushed ahead to the scene of the ex- 



146 A Happy Warrior 

plosion. It was still very active, and, in fact, remained so 
for a day and a half. Several factories about the dump 
were totally destroyed, and it was in these that our men 
concentrated their work. Many dead bodies were recovered, 
and we were able to take out a few living people who had 
been badly crushed and we hurried them to the American 
Hospital in our trucks. The work, I assure you, was far 
from pleasant, and lasted from two o'clock in the afternoon 
until midnight, when we all marched home. At camp, 
Captain Reilly commended the men highly for their work 
and gave them the next morning off. It was the Americans 
who handled practically the entire situation, and I think 
it was a far greater calamity than the press has made 
known. 

The same night on returning, Lieutenant Ormsby, who 
had been left in command of the post in my absence, in- 
formed me that my orders had come to proceed to another 
instruction center, and that they were awaiting me at 
headquarters. Needless to say, I was the happiest man in 
the world. 

The next morning, I went into Paris, received my orders, 
made the necessary purchases and met Julie at the Hotel 
Petrograd for luncheon. We had a pleasant chat together, 
which was terminated very suddenly just as I was kissing 
her good-bye when special orders came to me to report at 
once. At dinner that night I was most pleasantly sur- 
prised on being presented with a beautiful gold watch and 
testimonial by Captain Reilly; it was a present from the 
officers and every enlisted man in the post. I was abso- 



OvE R Th ere 147 

lutely dumbfounded. It was all so unnecessary and so un- 
expected and undeserved, and of course I made a bungle 
of my speech. 

I bade farewell to everyone that night and left early the 
next morning for the place where I now am, thanks be 
unto heaven. 

I found here many of the boys whom I came over with 
and have had a great reunion. Among them are Sandy 
Weatherbee (of Detroit), Harry Colburn, Bill Hoeveler, 
Andy King, Rowland Potter (formerly of Detroit), Jeff 
Blanchard, and Vanderhoef. Why we are all here I 
do not know, but think it is probably a concentration 
camp where we may all keep our hands in the flying 
game until the time shall come when our machines are 
ready. I still have my Spad, that is the plane assigned 
to my exclusive use, and I am up in it as often as I can. 

I had a long talk with Rowly Potter last night. I had 
not seen him since school days, when our Hill football team 
played with the Hotchkiss team, of which Rowly was a 
member. 

I was very sorry to hear that my dear friend, Andy Ort- 
mayer, was killed last week in England. We thought he 
was the best flyer at Rantoul. You remember him, I 
think. You met him at the hotel and brought him down to 
the boat just before we sailed last October. I have heard 
no details of the accident, but it is authentic as it comes 
from George Fisher, his closest friend. Captain Miller, 
another of the boys whom I liked very much, was killed at 
the front on the same day. He was with Ed. Buford's 



148 A Happy Warrior 

squadron. But, father, this is enough of this kind of news. 

I am very pleased where I am now, although as usual 
the luxuries of home are lacking. The quarters are poor, 
but we have beds, at least double deckers with chicken 
wire to sustain the thin mattresses, and a warm room to 
go to bed in. The morning, however, is too unpleasant to 
speak of, but there is always plenty of cold, cold water to 
wash with, and that is a refresher. 

Now, for the brighter side. The mess is excellent, and 
the American Red Cross have a wonderful building with 
a good restaurant and real American girls waiting on the 
table; they are doing splendid work, and everyone pays 
them the utmost respect. They have actually enabled the 
Y. M. C. A. to close their doors at this post. Then, as for 
the men who are stationed here, a great number of them I 
am happy to call my friends ; they are wonders, certainly a 
picked bunch of men, many of them college fellows. We 
have abundant liberty, practically being our own bosses, 
but we try to uphold the prestige of the camp at all times. 

Yesterday we were carefully inspected by General Persh- 
ing, himself, and I think he was quite pleased with the post. 
A wonderful exhibition of flying was given, including aerial 
combats, acrobacy, squadron flying and a general review. 
Estes Armstrong, who was with us in New York, had a 
bad fall during the exhibition and for a time all hope of 
his recovery was given up. Today, however, he is doing 
better, and they think he will come through all right ex- 
cept for the loss or stiffening of one leg. He is one of the 
best fellows in the camp. 



• OVE R Th ere 149 

Well, father, this about completes the news for this issue, 
and the next will follow very soon, I hope. There is a great 
deal of interest and of happenings where I now am. I hope 
that you, at home, are all well and happy. There is no 
need of sympathy for me; I am in the best of health with 
many wonderful men around me. Love to all. 
Your loving son, 

March 20, 1918. William. 



A. E. F., France, 
March 27th, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

I am no longer associated with typewriters, but am at 
one of the flying fields where flying is abundant — a little 
too much, if anything — six and seven hours every day with 
the exception of Sundays and days of bad weather. I am 
still using a chasse machine 120 H. P. Nieuport, but dare 
not claim yet that I will be allowed to follow up this work 
and become a Chasse Pilot. 

Another branch which would not be very objectionable 
if I do not make good as a scout is day bombing. In the 
latter, you have a larger machine carrying an extra person 
with an extra gun. I hope that I will not have to follow 
artillery observation or contact patrol. The work does 
not seem so attractive or exciting to me. I suppose when 
one's heart is set on a thing, any other alternative does not 
seem agreeable Maury Hill has chosen artillery observa- 
tion; Ed. Buford, chasse; and Andy King, day bombing. 

The air was full of wild rumors last week in Paris, and 
everyone seemed to be nervous and ill at ease on account 



150 A Happy Warrior 

of the imminence of the Big Offensive. I left Paris in the 
midst of the preparations, and just before the big gun 
began its deadly work. Some of the boys who were in 
Paris getting their planes told me that for a few hours 
utter confusion reigned. No one could determine that 
the source of such explosives was a long range gun. It 
was a beautifully clear day, and no planes could be seen in 
the air. At first, it was thought that a new machine had 
been invented which could climb to previously unknown 
heights. After two or three hours, the community settled 
down to a semblance of quiet and order. Gendarmes went 
about the streets beating drums both to warn and dis- 
tract the people. Right after this came another air raid, 
and finally the Big Offensive almost at the doors of Paris, 
It is no wonder that the city was for a short time almost 
overwhelmed with terror. To many of the people, the 
first thought was flight from Paris. This caused great con- 
gestion at the railroad stations. It was not long, however, 
they tell me, before order was restored and the courage of 
the French reasserted itself. 

Rumor kept our flying camp in a state of mind as well. 
We heard that all finished pilots would go at once to the 
defense of Paris; also that many of our divisions would 
immediately become reserves to the British and French 
Aviation Forces. This is only part of the news which kept 
us guessing, and you can imagine the life we have lived. 

I found here practically all of my old friends, and also 
a great many new men from Cornell, and last but not 
least, Rowly Potter. He has been ordered here, but has done 



OVE R Th ere IM. 

no flying yet. Another acquaintance whom I found is Doctor 
Goldthwaite. I went to see him the other day about my 
stomach which has been kicking up a wee bit. It bothered 
me a good deal and seemed to throw my eyes out of kilter. 

I have to report my first accident — nothing serious, how- 
ever. I was working with Quentin Roosevelt. There was 
a very high wind, and I was rolled over on my back on the 
ground, wrecking the machine badly. I did not even have 
as much as a bruise; was merely pushed out in the mud 
and soiled my clothes. Quentin Roosevelt is now in charge of 
us. He is an awfully nice fellow and a beautiful flyer. If I 
am not mistaken, he is also going to take up chasse work. 

Our next accomplishment will be night flying. They have 
just established it, and I will commence my work next 
week, and think it will be quite thrilling. 

Well, father, there is little more to say which one can 
tell, but I can assure you that I am quite well. Am getting 
even more flying than I wished. I never thought this time 
would come. Two two-hour flights in the morning, and 
two two-hour flights in the afternoon at about a sixteen 
thousand foot altitude. We usually cut off about fifteen 
minutes on each formation; five machines to a formation. 
Your loving son, 

William. 

A. E. F., France, 
April 1, 1918. 

Dear Helen — 

Nothing but blinding rain and strong westerly winds for 

four days, which have afforded us a much-needed rest. 



152 A Happy Warrior 

For the two weeks preceding, we were worked to the limit, 
and kept continually under a nervous strain, which, at 
times, is very trying. As long as the weather permitted, 
and for awhile it was beautiful, we were at it from seven 
in the morning until seven and seven-thirty in the evening; 
darkness only ending the day's work of eight hours of 
flying, fifty rounds of wing shooting, and practice with 
machine guns on the range. It was pleasant work, but, 
as I said, is most trying because of the nervous strain. 

In my letter of some time ago, I described the acrobatics 
which are compulsory for each chasse pilot to take. Our 
machines have been strengthened to stand the extra strain. 
All of the sensations are pleasant except the side-slip, where 
you fall off to one side perpendicularly. This is the worst 
I have yet encountered, and you may be sure that one does 
it only when he is ordered to. You are actually torn away 
from your seat, and your life belt is all that holds you in 
the machine. At the same time, your stomach rests in 
your mouth. You can probably understand why the rain 
is such a friend in need after you have worked for a week 
endeavoring to perfect such stunts. After satisfying certain 
French moniteurs that these maneuvers have been mas- 
tered, we were assigned to another field to perfect our 
squadron flying. This is most interesting work, but a 
little tedious, as you have to do almost too much flying. 
You stand formation as usual at seven o'clock, and then 
have to go on four different flights of two hours each before 
sunset. This flying all takes place above an altitude of 
sixteen thousand feet. You fly generally in a formation 



OvE R Th ere 153 

of five machines, with only a small space between them. 
The formations are all of different types. The most com- 
mon is the inverted V, like a flock of wild geese. You fly 
all over France, seldom covering the same ground twice. 
If your motor cuts out, you land at the most convenient 
place practicable. You are often left a long time in such 
a position, as it takes two men to start one of these high- 
powered machines. The little machines, though, are fas- 
cinating, and you soon commence to baby the one assigned 
to you like a pet dog. 

My work continues under the guidance of Lieutenant 
Quentin Roosevelt, who is a wonderful flyer and a good in- 
structor, although, as he admits, he was indirectly re- 
sponsible for my first mishap, which, however, hurt nothing 
but my uniform and the machine. The first day of this 
bad weather, he sent us out to try the air and test some 
machines. A young fellow named Warwick took one. Rich 
another, and I the third. The machines were parked in 
a line along the front and in the lee of the hangars. My 
motor was started first, and I commenced taxi-ing out to 
take off against the wind from the hangars. After going 
about fifty feet, the wind got under my tail, and spun me 
around and tipped me over. I was underneath, but my 
dignity only was crushed, and I crawled out in the mud 
from beneath the machine, with many worried eyes scan- 
ning me. They insisted that I was hurt, and I insisted 
that I was not. I looked to see what the other machines 
were doing, and to my surprise, found that they had col- 
lided head on into each other. The wind had also played 



154 A Happy Warrior 

havoc with them, sending them into each other's arms. 
With three perfectly good machines wrecked in one minute, 
and no one to blame except the wind, Quentin decided to 
call off flying. He has something of his father in him, and 
is willing to take chances. 

This kind of weather has continued since and one can 
only talk about flying. This form of aviation is commonly 
called "barracks flying," and is absolutely tabooed. When 
off the field all flying ceases. 

Yesterday being Easter Sunday, and a disagreeable day, 
my thoughts wandered along serious lines and carried me 
back home. I do not like to be pessimistic. I think I will 
come home all right, but I do not see a chance of returning 
for a long while. 

While I was at the Y. M. C. A. getting some hot choco- 
late and sympathy, I read in the Stars and Stripes that 
Ithaca was going dry in October. The man behind the 
counter asked me if it was because I was a Cornell man that 
I was interested. He said he was there in the class of 1907. 
We talked on for a few moments so as to size each other up, 
and I rather took to him, and asked him if he knew Pat 
Wardwell. That was enough introduction for him. He 
told me to be sure and tell Pat that I had shaken the hand 
of Bill Forbes of Cleveland. He invited me into his room, 
and we talked over old times and friends at Cornell. I 
found the welcome company and sympathy for which I 
had been praying. 

We were given a twenty-three hour leave over Sunday, 
which very foolishly, I did not use. Some of the boys 



Over Th ere 155 

went to Orleans and attended services at the Eglise St. 
Croix. They said the singing was beautiful and the sermon 
most impressive. I was sorry I did not go. It would have 
taken me out of the rut into which one so naturally falls 
in camp. 

Love to all. Well. 

Your loving brother, 

Bill. 
To Mrs. H. F. Wardwell, 
Grosse Pointe Park, Mich. 



A. E. F., France, 
April 8, 1918. 
Dear Eleanor — 

The last two weeks have brought with them nothing but 
westerly winds, drizzUng rains, and low-hanging clouds, 
which have made flying almost impossible. However, if 
this may be of any advantage to our Allies at the front in 
the great offensive, we, in our safer positions, cannot com- 
plain. Quentin Roosevelt, now in charge of us, has pushed 
us to get every hour's flying possible, and in some instances, 
he took rather big chances. 

I had an interesting experience the other day. The 
clouds were exceedingly low, but looked broken up, so we 
were sent out in a formation of eight machines to fly above 
the clouds. We formed to the right of the field in the 
usual way, and then started out across country. It was 
perfectly beautiful. The clouds, with the sun shining on 
them from above, looked like silvery fleece. All went fine 
until the leader had to make a forced landing because of 



156 A Happy Warrior 

engine trouble. As is the rule, the machine directly follow- 
ing, which happened to be mine, has to descend with him 
to near the ground to make sure no injury comes to him 
in landing. All was O. K. He went down safely; and then 
I turned to rejoin the squadron. I passed through the first 
bank of clouds, and could not find it; then through the 
second, and saw nothing. I then figured out my direction 
as well as I could, and dropped down through the clouds 
to return to the field. Nothing looked familiar, and I 
wandered aimlessly about at a low altitude below the 
clouds looking for some land-mark. My gasoline was just 
about out. I knew I must soon land, when I saw a town. 
I made for it, chose my field, and landed. After much 
French babbling, I located myself in the town of Selles 
sur Cher, some seventy kilometers away from home. I 
found there one of our divisions stationed temporarily, and 
their C. O's were very courteous. They gave me luncheon 
and fifty litres of gasoline. Their intentions were the best, 
I know, but the gas which they gave me was diluted a 
bit too much, and burned poorly. It carried me to the 
town of Gevres, where I located an aviation field. They 
drained the gasoline system, and again filled me, and I 
started on my way. Fate, however, was against me. My 
machine refused to return, and on using the second full 
tank of essence, I dropped into another little French town. 
They informed me it was Vineul, and that there was a 
French aviation school on the outskirts of the city. I 
rose, circled the city, and dropped into the aerodrome. 
It was amusing to me to see the machines they were fly- 



OvE R Th ere 157 

ing — the early types of Farmans and Caudrons; big bulky 
machines, with an approximate speed of about fifty miles 
an hour. But why criticize my hosts? They were very 
kind, and gave me gas and advice as to how to return. 
Their directions were very vague, or I was stupid, because 
for the third time, I descended, out of gas, in a town I 
knew well — Chateauroux. It was an easy flight from here, 
and I landed at the field at six o'clock in the evening, 
having left it at seven in the morning. One way to see 
France. When I reported to Quentin Roosevelt, he greeted 
me cordially, but all he said was, "Am glad you brought 
the machine back safely." 

For the other, and less successful experience: I left at 
the same time in the morning to partake in a cross-country 
flight. On reaching the River Cher, we took our course 
in a northwesterly direction along the river. In the worst 
of all imaginable places, my motor stopped dead. I had 
good altitude, so it gave me time to choose my field. I 
felt trouble long before it came, but headed down right in- 
to what looked to be a field surrounded by a hedge. On 
coming closer and closer, my heart sank. My field, al- 
though the ground was good, was terribly small, and what 
I took to be a hedge was high poplar trees. It was too late 
to change, so I determined to just clear the trees on one 
side in order not to roll into those on the other side. My 
plan was good, but the piloting poor, and in trying to clear 
the trees, one wing, the right upper, struck a branch of 
the tree next, tearing off the wing. With this supporting 
surface removed, my right side headed groundward, but 



158 A Happy Warrior 

acting so quickly I overcontrolled, throwing the machine 
into a wing-slip on the other side, and crashed to the 
ground. For a minute or two, I did not move, the belt 
only holding me in, as the machine was balanced on her 
nose. Then I realized I was not hurt, undipped the belt 
and fell to the ground. By this time, a few of the French 
neighbors had congregated, and I had a difficult time ex- 
plaining that I was not hurt. It was really very fortunate 
that I was not, but truly, I did not have a scratch. If 
it had not been for a stiff back, I would not have known 
that I fell. 

The most interesting part followed. I sent a little 
French fellow to Chabris to telephone for the "trouble 
shooters" while I rested peacefully on the floor in front of 
a peasant's hearth. It was baking day, and the entire 
family took part in the operation. They wrapped the dough 
in burlaps and put it down on the ground near the oven. 
The firing of the oven was a curious procedure. They 
would place little bundles of sticks in it, ignite them, then 
clean it out, and do the same thing over and over. After 
an hour of this, they removed the ashes and took out a 
large paddle, shaped like a shovel, on which they placed 
the dough. This, they put in various parts of the oven, 
and allowed it to remain for an hour and a half. It was 
then removed, brushed off with a dry broom, and placed 
on a rack in the wall. 

At seven o'clock, my camion arrived. We loaded the 
wreck on it and started for the field. About this time, it 
began raining very hard, and we spent the night in a little 



(iwcA. cacxaWk:! to Utvt (LMru^<\ . -foj a 'Vu>Uiit en Wi 

'. tfer 4\JiA;« CAT* V2X.;Vi/ViKs VvolA C-jCV a vX a aSuTc^ ouo^q 
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, ^UwtA . ^ fUMXa mia 4iiUccU kij^, -t. dUw. 



Mss. of page of letter of April 8, 1918 



QvE R Th ere 159 

French town through which we were passing. I arrived at 
camp at noon the next day. 

There has been little diversion at the field except for 
some entertainments during the bad weather. Most of the 
time is spent reading or writing. 

Please tell Father I would rather have him keep my 
letters and not let them be published. It always looks as 
if a fellow was pushing himself upon the public and I do 
not like it. My work may be for the public but my letters 
are for you and him and the family. 

Love to all. 

Affectionately, 

Bill, 
To Mrs. Henry Russel, 
Detroit. 



A. E. F., France, 
April 10, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

The bad weather continues, no rain, but low-hanging 
clouds which make flying practically impossible except for 
the tour de piste where one circles the field and makes 
landings only. Having passed this stage of the game, my 
occupation consists of gathering about the fire with the 
rest of the warmth seekers. It is an exceedingly poor coal 
fire in the center of the barracks, circumscribed with 
trunks on which the would-be flyers sit. If anyone should 
make the grave mistake of talking flying, a stick or poker 
is placed in his hands and the chorus sings, "Show us how 



160 A Happy Warrior 

you would do it, Mr. Bones." Barracks flying is not en- 
couraged. 

Our time has been spent in reading and shooting. Every 
day, we shoot fifty rounds at clay pigeons with shot guns> 
thirty rounds at a target with a machine gun, and twenty- 
five rounds with an automatic. This routine is broken 
only by meals and a sojourn to the Y. M. C. A. at 5:30 for 
a cup of hot chocolate and three hard biscuits. After fly- 
ing, chocolate is fine. Pat's friend, Mr. Forbes, is at present 
the "pourer." He is a very nice fellow. This and a movie 
once a week are our recreations, so you see that I am not 
falling by the wayside in my army career in France. 

Yesterday was a fine day for me in the mail. I received 
five letters; one from Mr. Deming Jarves from Val Fleuri, 
one from Wain at Albuquerque, New Mexico, informing 
me that he was practically well, and expected to return to 
Detroit to live permanently. Then, there was a letter 
from you and one from Eleanor, post marked Atlantic 
City, and one from Christine. Added to all this was a box 
from Cousin Catharine Leggat, bringing oranges and ginger 
bread right here to camp. The letters come like manna 
from heaven. 

After two weeks in barracks, with little to keep you 
busy, one's thoughts are constantly inclined to be wander- 
ing back home. 

Love to all. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



QvE R Th ere 16J. 

A. E. F., France, 
April 15, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Your letter, written from the Detroit Club March 6th, 
came and brought a little sunshine with it. 

The weather has been terrible, and my surroundings are 
far from pleasant, which made conditions even worse. Our 
only purpose in being here, however, is well attended to, 
and we are flying every minute possible, between storms 
and during showers. It has been tedious work. Some of 
our flights continue as long as eight hours a day with only 
a short break for luncheon. The other day, when I was 
making my altitude test in the 15-120s in which I flew at 
an altitude of twenty-one thousand feet, I froze two of the 
fingers on my left hand. The least touch of cold affects 
them. The doctor told me there is nothing to do except to 
soak them in warm water and massage frequently. 

With my left hand, I work the small gas and air manettes 
which I cannot adjust with a glove or mitten on. I can 
keep my right hand well covered and warm. It was ne- 
cessary to remain at this altitude for fifteen minutes, and 
when I descended, I was absolutely lost, so I dropped into 
the first town which I passed over, and learned from the 
people who immediately rushed up that I was one hun- 
dred and twenty kilometers from my proper destination. 
My gasoline was very low, and I knew it would be im- 
possible to reach the field, so I decided to make a dive 
for the home grounds and get as near as possible. The 
crowd of people who had gathered about gave me general 



162 A Happy Warrior 

directions, and I started; but very soon the expected spit- 
ting began, and the motor stopped. A small town was 
directly opposite so I spiralled down into a nearby field 
and again asked where I was. This proved to be a small 
town, only twenty-six kilometers away, a matter of only 
a few minutes but where was gasoline to be obtained? I 
wandered into the village, which, by the way, was the 
town where Jean dArc met Charles VII. Here I ran 
across an American military policeman, who told me that 
there was a camp two miles away. I telephoned, and they 
gave me fifty litres of gasoline. I filled the machine and 
endeavored to start, but unfortunately, truck gasoline will 
not drive an aeroplane. As it was getting dark, I had a 
guard posted over the machine, and spent the night in the 
town. In the early morning, I was awakened by the 
jemme de chambre who asked me if I was the aviator for 
whom a motor was waiting. The mechanics had arrived 
with good essence. We drained out the poor gas, filled the 
machine, turned her over, and away I went, reaching the 
field O. K. at eleven o'clock a. m., and reported to Quentin 
Roosevelt. I had been gone since seven o'clock of the 
morning before, and this time Quentin said he was glad to 
see me as well as the machine safely back. 

The last few days have been spent in lectures during the 
rain, and actual work-out the minute it ceased. Most of 
the acrobatics are good fun, and exceedingly pretty to 
watch from the ground. 

Thursday, I expect to make another move, which, al- 
though not very far away, is enough south so that the 




Target record of gun camera. Snapshots taken by pulling trigger, the same 
as if gun was in actual use. The enemy plane is shown within the targets. 



Over Th ere 163 

weather will be more enjoyable. There, we will have a 
complete course in aerial combat work. One machine is 
sent out to patrol a certain section, and later another 
machine is sent up to attack it. You have all the thrills 
of actual warfare with its quick maneuvers, only gun 
cameras replace the machine gun. Then, too, you take up 
toy balloons, throw them over and dive at them, shooting 
with the real thing. You also dive and fire at a kite, which 
is towed at a good length behind another machine. This 
camp is purely for practice in aerial gunnery. It is situated 
near the ocean, and is located only twelve miles from a 
popular summer resort. I go there with a squadron of 
seventeen. They are all nice fellows. We have had our 
advanced training together. They are all men whom I 
have met since my arrival in France. Three of them are 
from Cornell, two from Harvard, one from Princeton, one 
from Williams, and one from Pennsylvania. 

You asked me in one of your letters whether I took part 
in the big show for Secretary Baker, and I have the pleasure 
of informing you that the privilege was mine. I flew in one 
of the formations over the main camp. It was at this cele- 
bration that Estes Armstrong, one of my friends in Mem- 
phis, fell and was very badly hurt. One leg was broken 
in several places. I am afraid it will prevent him from 
flying any more. He was doing acrobatics too near the 
ground, a very pretty but dangerous thing. 

I hope Anne's troubles and the sickness in her house have 
passed. Her fine box with cigarettes and other things is here. 

Love to all. Well. ,^ , . 

Your lovmg son, ^^^^^^^^ 



164 A Happy Warrior 

Third Aviation Instruction Center, 
A. E. F., France, April 16, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Just a line before flitting south for a ten days' course in 
aerial combat work. 

I expect to leave tonight, and understand from the other 
boys that the new location is a very beautiful spot. The 
camp is on the shore of a large lake on which the various 
combat work and aerial gunnery are carried on. Ten miles 
away from the field is one of the most attractive French 
watering places, just now at the height of its season. If 
the weather is bad, we will have a chance to enjoy it; if not, 
I am told we will be worked from early morning until dark. 
At the end of this course, I am going to try for a leave. 
It will be my first permission. In fact, if I do get it, it 
will be the only leave of absence, except for an occasional 
week-end at the American camps, since I enlisted. 

I have just got a report from Tours that Bob Townes, 
who is instructing there, had a bad fall yesterday. He 
escaped without injury, but his pupil was killed. He has 
not yet had any Nieuport training, and went directly into 
Caudron flying — a big, heavy, bulky machine. They are 
used for preliminary training so that a student may fa- 
miliarize himself with the feeling of the air. It corresponds 
to the training we had in the States. 

I had a long letter from Maury Hill yesterday. He, as 
I wrote you, has transferred into artillery observation. He 
says that his machine is a very strong aeroplane, but 
rather heavy and awkward. He is at the front doing 
observation work over our own lines, not yet flying over 



OVE R Th ere 165 



the enemy's lines. His letter, like some of mine, is not very 
clear, owing to the censorship. 

The boys preceding me in chasse work, we are informed, 
are doing very well, and at the rate they are going will 
soon be aces. It is gratifying, because everybody has eyes 
on them, and it inspires us all with pride in our work and 
the hope soon to get into the thick of things. 

Bill Hoeveler and Vanderhoef left the other day to 
take up work in day bombing, a branch rapidly coming 
into favor. It will undoubtedly play an important part, 
but I am still confident that chasse work is the highest 
and most useful type of the service. The boys with whom 
I am going south are fine fellows like the rest of the avi- 
ators, but are new friends that I have made. You do not 
know any of them. 

I wish my trip tonight were over. Railroad travel at 
night in France, as I have learned by experience, is done 
standing or sitting up. But it will be a matter of only 
twelve hours, and then delightful spring weather instead of 
rain and cold. Will write you all about it. Well. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



NouvEAu Grand Hotel, 

Arcachon, (Cote d' Argent), France, 

April 18, 1918. 

Dear Father — 

After an uncomfortable trip, I have come here to find 

the most charming place I have yet visited in France. 



166 A Happy Warrior 

Arcachon is the heaven in France for children, and ap- 
parently for the mothers and nurses who accompany them. 
I gather from the lovely villas scattered about, and the 
hotel, that it is a very fashionable place. It is the first 
time for a long while that I have seen dinner clothes in 
evidence. The recent raids on Paris, the storming of the 
big gun, and the beginning of the great offensive have all 
contributed to sending crowds here. Arcachon is on the 
shore, and our room looks out upon the ocean. The 
beautiful big casino just a few doors away is now a hos- 
pital. Dotting the beach for some three miles are little 
villas, peculiar structures, painted in bright colors. Behind 
the string of cottages, there is a bluff, having a small moun- 
tain effect, heavily grown with pines. This forms a screen 
for the other part of the city, which is a winter resort. 

Yesterday, we drove in and out among the trees, through 
winding roads and charming scenery. Dick Este says it 
resembles Bermuda. 

Last night I reported at the camp, a French school, and 
they told me to stay where I was, and that I need not re- 
port again until Saturday. It was certainly a message of 
good tidings. I have by no means lost interest, but it will 
be a relief for a few days to see, smell and talk about things 
other than aeroplanes, and a fellow without work or care 
ought to enjoy a three days' rest here in a comfortable hotel 
at this attractive resort. 

On the completion of my course at the school, if I get 
permission, my first one and long overdue, I will either 
spend it here or go to Nice. After that, I will probably 



OVE R Th ere 167 



be assigned to a French Esquadrille where I will be fortu- 
nate enough to have a Spad and not a Nieuport plane. 
There is not a great deal of difference, but it seems to 
me that the latter is not so strong or dependable. 

On the way here we had to stop off for several hours at 
Bordeaux and I had a good chance to see the city. Just 
now, and further away from the front, it seems more at- 
tractive than Paris, but of course none of the cities is in a 
normal condition. 

I am looking forward with pleasure to the change to a 
summer uniform. It has been so frightfully raw and cold, 
especially in the heights to which I have been accustomed, 
that we have had to dress like polar explorers. 

I wrote you about freezing my fingers, over which I have 
been lamenting until yesterday, when I met a boy who had 
frozen his nose and cheeks. He was such a shocking sight 
that I think I was lucky. There is no feehng yet in one 
finger, and the end has puffed up and become callous. I 
have to give it careful massage treatment frequently every 
day. 

From my window I can see the other boys sailing on the 
bay, but after my night's travel with two changes, one at 
twelve and one at three o'clock, I am disposed to remain 
in this comfortable room and spend the time writing and 
resting. 

They have done things to the railways here as well as 
at home. Under war time government regulations, not 
only have the sleeping cars been taken off so that one must 
sit up or often stand up, but they do not heat the cars, 



168 A Happy Warrior 

and towards midnight it becomes freezing cold. Luckily 
one can forget all this in a few hours, and I am now in 
satisfaction and content. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E. F., France, 
May 1, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

When I realize that the first of May has come again and 
the season at Fontinalis is open once more without my 
being there to whip the stream, I begin to think that I 
have signed up for a life job at war. I had never missed 
a visit to that lovely stream in a single season of my life 
until I enlisted. Mother took me there first in swaddling 
clothes before I was a year old. You remember the picture. 

The service and my experience in the camps at home and 
over here have all been extremely interesting, and I would 
not wilUngly forego them, but oh! for a couple of weeks 
at Fontinalis. We have all been discussing where we will 
spend our permissions, and I recalled many of the good 
times you gave me there, and was surprised to find that 
nearly every one of the boys would choose just such a place 
for a loaf if he could. It seems to us to be as far away 
from military discipline and mechanical work and flying as 
any place can be. 

But the choice has been made for us by General Pershing, 
who has issued orders that all leaves be suspended until 
after the Great Offensive. All transportation facilities 
must be used for the armies. It is some recompense, 







•,l>JyM 




«- ^wnUB 





OvE R Th ere 169 

however, for disappointment, to be at this beautiful place. 
It seems a shame though, that one has to work so hard and 
do everything to fit one's self to fight, with all the beautiful 
scenery, golf courses, tennis courts, yachting, swimming, 
fishing, etc., going to waste about us. We have to report 
on the field in flying clothes at seven-thirty, and keep 
practicing and flying until eleven-thirty, when there is 
nearly a three-hour stop for lunch in accordance with the 
good old French custom. You understand that this is the 
finishing school for chasse pilots. At two-thirty, we report 
at the field again, and flying continues until eight o'clock. 
The rest of the time is free. At Issoudun, when it rained, 
we rested. Here, when the weather is inclement, we at- 
tend lectures on machine guns, deflections, jams of guns, 
etc. I forgot, however, to mention that we only fly until 
noon on Sunday, giving us a rest of a whole half day a 
week. The course itself is very practical. It is purely 
shooting, first on the ground, and then in the air at 
various kinds of targets, still and moving, then at still 
targets when you move, and finally at moving targets 
while moving yourself. 

It is worthy of notice that out of thirty odd students en- 
rolled in the school, there are four boys from Detroit — Louis 
Bredin, Sandy Wetherbee, Kenneth Matheson, and my- 
self. Louis Bredin is Adjutant of the American Contingent. 

We have had several indignation meetings here in regard 
to the whereabouts of other Detroit men, and the ears of 
many of the bomb-proof ers at Washington, Paris, and other 
dangerous localities must have burned. 



<5» 



170 A Happy Warrior 

We see and hear nothing but guns and aeroplanes all 
our waking hours. 

I am getting along with my work all right, and am in 
the best of health. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E. F., France, 

May 7, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

My very pleasant stay here is just about concluded, and 
I have nearly finished the course. This completes my in- 
struction as a chasse pilot. All that remains now is to 
wait for orders, and orders, we understand, will come when 
machines are forthcoming. What type of a machine, or 
when we will get them, or where we will go, there is no 
telling, but don't worry — there is no need of anxiety for 
some time yet. 

Owing to the good work done last week, we have had 
Saturday afternoon and Sunday off. It was a great relief 
to change the atmosphere and permit yourself to relax in 
a comfortable hotel. In the dining room you see a wonder- 
ful conglomeration of uniforms — bright colored Portu- 
guese, Itahan, French, a few Russians and dull khaki 
Americans. They are full of enthusiasm, doing their final 
work here. All are boys between the ages of eighteen and 
twenty-five. Away from camp, they are a jolly lot of 
friends, saluting and shaking hands all the time, but on 
the field, there is a great deal of rivalry. The scores at 
shooting, and the expertness in flying are watched jealously. 



OVE R Th ere m 

I am proud to say that the Americans have broken the 
records here, and their work is favorably spoken of on all 
hands. The American mechanics, too, have caught on to 
the foreign motors, especially the rotary Rhone motor. I 
have used it almost entirely. 

During our short stay at Arcachon we could not get in 
enough baths; so in the afternoon, when out sailing and 
well away from land, we took a dip in the ocean. We 
quickly discovered that we were rushing the season, and 
hurried back to Madam Foulon's, who was kind enough to 
give us some hot cocoa made with water, but we had to pro- 
duce our military bread tickets before we could get a slice 
of pain grille. This regulation has been in force since the 
first of May. Butter is also defendu, but we have dis- 
covered that an American officer with a little poor French 
and a good deal of flattery pent obtenir du beurre. 

Sunday was a lovely day, and all the resorters were out in 
their glory. The beach was a swarming mass of children 
and nurses. It amazed me to see how long some of the 
more sedate and elderly French could occupy a bench on 
the Pier without moving or apparently thinking. Aside 
from some food regulations, there was nothing to suggest 
war times. We learned of an attractive little inn where we 
might drive for lunch, and we engaged a couple of Louis 
XIV hacks and had a fine drive. The scenery, to me, was 
like northern Michigan, if you substitute the ocean for 
Lake Superior. The luncheon was delicious — good enough, 
we thought, for C. O.'s. We lounged about at the wayside 
Inn all the afternoon, and I was so contented that I cursed 



172 A Happy Warrior 

the Hun for getting us into service, and wondered whether 
it would make much difference to the Aviation Corps or the 
cause of the Allies if a single flyer like myself should fail to 
show up for further duty; but this was only a day dream. 
Our permission expired at midnight, and we returned to the 
field, and reported promptly on time. 

The camp on the lake is beautifully located, but there is 
a fly, if you are polite enough to call them that, in the 
amber. French troops occupied our barracks before we 
did, and what I now know to be awful, is here most abund- 
ant. Not being able to sleep and scratch at the same time, 
I give up trying to sleep until, after rolling and tossing until 
I am tired, I fall off into a doze regardless of the summer 
boarders. You would not recognize the soldier whose pic- 
ture you insisted upon having taken the day before we left 
New York, swabbed and smeared, as he is, with grease; but, 
as the French say, "c'est la guerre" an excuse for anything. 

My next move, at the end of the week, will be to return 
to Issoudun. I am ready and hope to get flying there. 
Aeroplanes, however, are still lacking. For the interim, I 
have had an opportunity to take three jobs, none of which 
appeals to me. One is apt to be left permanently with 
it, especially if he makes good. I can be a monitor in- 
structor, tester, or take charge of the acrobatic field. The 
last is by far the most preferable; but, as I say, if I should 
take it, I might be tied down indefinitely. I think I can 
arrange so as to wait until a squadron of Americans is 
formed, or until I can be detailed with a French or English 
squadron. Nous verrons. 



Over Th ere 173 



I suppose you have read of the excellent work that some 
of our boys are doing at the front. One squadron, in mak- 
ing its first patrol over the lines, brought down three Boche 
planes, a remarkable record. It is all wrong that we have 
not been given more of a chance. 

The last two or three days the fine weather disappeared, 
and except for a couple of lectures on machine guns and de- 
flection, we have held down the benches in the barracks. 
This always puts the fellows in a discouraged state of mind. 
In an aviation camp, it gives one an opportunity to think 
and talk too much. 

The climate has got into me, and I have been troubled 
with a slight cold. I am shaking it off, however, and remain 
with love to all. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



An American Aviation Field, 

France, 

May 9, 1918. 
Dear Mr. Russel — 

I am enclosing a little snap shot of Bill that I took re- 
cently, showing the new leather coat which he bought in 
Paris. It is about the best looking one I have ever seen. 
Incidentally, I think it is very good of Bill. He is now at 
an aerial gunnery school finishing the final step in his 
Chasse Pilote training before going au front. He did 
mighty well in his flying training here, receiving A grade at 
every field. I never saw anyone so happy as he was at 



174 A Happy Warrior 

being relieved from his job "running an elevator" as he put 
it, and at flying again, 

I am (and have been for two months) one of a staff of 
seven instructors at this field. One by one, we go to 
aerial gunnery schools, and in a short time now, our whole 
bunch will have completed their training, and we hope we 
will all go to the big show together. I am trying to arrange 
things so that we will go with Bill when he goes. Everyone 
is well, and will be glad when the period of ''marking time" 
is over and we are at last in the midst of things, doing our 
"darndest." 

Maury Hill and Ed, Buford have both been up near the 
line for some time, but so far have had no actual fighting. 

Kindest regards to you and Mrs, Russel, 
Yours sincerely, 

Harry C. Colburn. 

NOTE 
On May 11th, 1918, before this letter was received. Lieu- 
tenant Colburn was killed in an aeroplane accident. He 
went up in a new machine without a pupil to try the air, 
and at a height of about one thousand feet, suddenly went 
into a tail spin and crashed to the earth. 



A. E. F., France, 
May 13, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

It has been a long slow training, but at last, I have com- 
pleted my instruction as a Chasse Pilote, which you know 
was my ambition. One might think that training for 



«*-iri«^ 




Issoudun, March, 191S 
(The Coat) 



OvE R Th ere 175 



aviation would run along narrow lines, but not so with 
mine. It has practically covered the field of military 
work. Since a year ago last April 26th, in addition to 
military drill, handling arms and flying, I have done 
everything from working with a pick and shovel, cleaning 
up garbage, waiting on table and the highest type of kitchen 
service, with here and there sprinkled in much clerical 
work and a few truck convoys. Not counting these many 
diversions from regular aviation, I have the satisfaction 
of knowing that I have received far better and more careful 
instruction than the majority of French and American 
pilots who have gone to the front. I do not say the British. 
Their instruction is not as long nor as safe, but once com- 
pleted, is most thorough. The excellent results of their 
fitting is readily seen. Take my class alone — at Memphis, 
Ashburn, and in the early days of Rantoul, we had as good 
instruction as was given in the States because it was be- 
fore many of the other schools were completed, and it 
was not necessary to divide the instructors among them. 
We had more time in the air and fewer accidents, but it 
seems to me now that the principal benefit of our Curtis 
training was to give the student a sense of the air. We 
certainly acquired that, and having it, the remainder of 
the training with those machines, I will not say, was a 
waste of time, but was of no great advantage, at least 
to a chasse pilot. Nearly everything they tell you not 
to do in a Curtis is essential in a Nieuport or Spad. The 
little monoplanes I have never flown and know nothing 
about them yet. 



176 A Happy Warrior 

But to continue — from Rantoul I went directly to Villa 
Coubley, where, without doubt, you can find the greatest 
flyers in the world. Adjutant Chatain, my instructor and 
my friend, is one of the best of the conservative type. 
I had perfect confidence every minute the plane was under 
his control, and so, in my very first flights there, I was 
able to concentrate my thoughts on the new handling of 
the stick control and the resulting action and movement 
of the machine. As a result, I was turned loose in a very 
short time. 

After making sure that I had mastered the stick control 
on the larger machines, comparing in size to a Curtis, I 
went step by step to the little high-powered Nieuport, 
which really requires skill to fly. The type of Nieuport 
I had was the machine used by the members of the Lafayette 
Esquadrille before their famous Spad was introduced. I 
think, at the present time, opinion is slowly swinging back 
to favor the new model Nieuport. Many people, however, 
are prejudiced against the rotary motor, and I am inclined 
to agree with them. A stationary motor seems to me to 
be preferable, but, although I am a chasse pilot, I feel 
that there is so much to learn that I am not ready to ex- 
press opinions. 

I was at Villa Coubley just long enough to familiarize 
myself perfectly with the Nieuport and the stick control, 
when orders came to go to Issoudun. Here came advanced 
training, acrobatics, formation flying, and aerial combat. 
I suppose this is the greatest of all flying fields. They 
have vast tracts of ground containing many square miles 



OVE R Th ere 177 

divided into ten fields, and as you progress in your air 
work, you go from field one to eight. The last two fields 
are not yet finished. Having completed the course there, 
you are assigned to certain branches of aviation, according 
to your flying ability, as you are then considered a finished 
flyer. If you are a good conservative flyer, and develop a 
fitness for the work, you are sent to either bombing or 
artillery observation. If you have a faculty for acrobatics, 
and in formation flying and combat, you are almost certain 
to go chasse. So far, there have not been many sent to 
the contact patrol group. At this stage, the split comes, 
and some go to bombing schools, some to aerial gunnery 
schools, and the rest to artillery schools. My aspiration 
being for chasse work, which I consider the highest type 
(the pursuit pilots are the knight errants of the air), I 
had the good fortune to be sent here to the best French 
aerial gunnery school, where I have had a mighty interest- 
ing, and, I think, valuable course. My regret is that I 
cannot stay here until they are ready for us at the front. 
They will not permit us to remain, and we will probably 
be used as clerks for some time until planes are ready. 
We get all kinds of rumors, but one learns very early in 
army experience not to put any reliance on them. There 
is a possibility that we may be sent with a French squad- 
ron, and this I am personally hoping for. 

Just now, I am an idler in a beautiful summer hotel at 
Arcachon for two days, sleeping until ten or eleven in 
the morning, and eating more than enough. The inter- 
vals are occupied largely with many hot baths, mostly 



178 A Happy Warrior 

sulphur, necessary for reasons which I have before ex- 
plained and otherwise. 

It is certainly, for the time being, the best war which 
I have ever fought in — beautiful weather, beautiful scenery, 
and beautiful rest. Most of the other boys are on horse- 
back. They said they wanted to take a ride on the ground. 
I am taking the opportunity, while I am on terra firma, 
to write. 

This morning I asked about the fishing, but it was in 
vain. I am not in the right part of France for trout. 
Many and ofttimes I picture myself sitting by the dam 
near the hatchery at Fontinalis, or wandering slowly up 
stream past the pools at the cedar bends below the sec- 
tion house meadows. Here, I have even more beautiful 
scenery, but somehow it is lacking in the thing which would 
make it most attractive to me, I think, also, it is the 
want of the old time companionship and the continual 
change of scene. Everything is strange here. You are 
constantly moved from place to place and meet new people. 
I enjoy new acquaintances, and the people are very kind 
and courteous to me, but it is not my nature, as you know, 
to rush in and mix with strangers. I have made many 
good friends, but really the hardest part of my army ex- 
perience has been the separation from home and the old 
familiar faces. 

You can do a kind act by sending me another letter of 
credit. My long sojourn in Paris and advances to the 
government in connection with the various truck convoys 
have diminished my funds. At present, the United States 



OvE R Th ere 179 



owes me about twenty-eight hundred francs, for which I 
have pay vouchers in, but have not yet been able to col- 
lect. You see that in addition to personal service, I am 
doing my bit to support the financial credit of my country. 
I have been able to shake off the little cold which has 
been bothering me and now feel very fit. Not having 
heard, I am taking it for granted that all of you are well, 
and with love to all, 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Aviation Section, 
A. E. F., France, 
May 15, 1918. 
Dear Wain — 

It was not due to thoughtlessness, merely lack of time, 
that I have not written sooner. The last month has been a 
busy one and a great deal has depended upon it. By this 
I mean my career as an aviator — whether I should be a 
bomber, an artillery observer, a reconnaissance driver, or a 
chasse pilot. As I told you, my ambition was to be the 
latter, and this last short period of my training has deter- 
mined it. I have passed the course successfully. Your fate 
lies in your ability in formation flying, acrobatics, and 
combat work. You may be an excellent flyer, but lacking 
one of these essentials, your chances are minute for chasse 
work. 

The other branches were objectionable to me, and some- 
times made me shudder on account of one thing — you are 
required to carry a passenger, either a bomber or a photog- 



180 A Happy Warrior 

rapher or observer — and the idea of having another man's 
life depending continually upon your vigilance and skill has 
never appealed to me. When you have completed your 
course in combat flying, which includes straight flying, cross- 
country work, speed scout work, acrobatics, formation 
flying, and combat, you are selected, and separated from 
the rest to go to individual fitting for advanced and final 
work. I had the good luck to be chosen to prepare for 
chasse work, and was sent to an aerial gunnery school. 
It is, in effect, a course in air shooting where the target 
and the gun are in motion, and the thing is to find the proper 
deflection and hit the mark. At first, you have ground 
work; shooting with a revolver, and then with a machine 
gun, which is fired from the rear of a fast motor boat at 
targets, stationary and moving in the water. The next step 
is the air work. As you probably know, the guns on a 
chasse plane are aimed by aiming the machine. You take 
up in your plane a little paper parachute, about the size 
of a parasol, which you throw over and dive at as it falls. 
The balloons are captive, and you make a small circle 
of the field and dive at them and shoot as you pass. 
At the end of so many shots, usually five hundred, the 
balloon is pulled down, and the hits recorded. Next comes 
the "sleeve," usually the final step of the training, A linen 
stocking, about twelve feet long and two feet in diameter, is 
towed some two hundred feet behind one of the larger 
machines, and you swoop down in your chasse machine and 
shoot at it. It requires care, but is really fun. If you have 
the faculty, and are successful in making a good record, this 



Over Th ere 181 

completes your course as a chasse pilot. That is where I 
now am, after practically thirteen months of training in 
which, aside from flying, I have done everything from peel- 
ing potatoes to high class clerical work. It has, however, 
been a good experience, and one which I would not regret 
if it were not that it has kept me from the front so long, and 
taken so much out of such a period of a man's life. 

Another thing which has been distasteful to me has been 
the constant change to new localities, new faces, and new 
friends. Just now I cannot complain, as I am a resorter in a 
beautiful summer hotel in one of the most popular French 
seaside resorts. We have only two or three days, but it is a 
time for good meals, much sleep, and especially plenty of 
hot baths. I am sure I will have parted with all my un- 
welcome attaches after a couple more sulphur washings. 

There are plenty of pretty women here — cordial, as in all 
parts of France, to the American uniform. Talking French 
seems to come easier in their company. 

Sometime, when I get back, if I am spared, and am sitting 
before your fire, I will have great experiences and lively 
descriptions of France in war time to give you. It seems 
incredible that such a short time ago one would never have 
dreamed of them. 

This is the loveliest place I have visited, and Wain, with 
the environment now about me, it is certainly hard to 
believe that I am going from here to war to fight and kill. 

Magazine story parties all day, and all evening, which are 
novelties to the American, at least to us small-town folk. 

About the future, I know little more than you. I am a 



182 A Happy Warrior 

finished chasse pilote, but there are no chasse machines 
available. I am like a man all dressed up and no where to 
go. Bill Casgrain had the good luck to be sent to the front 
in the first chasse squadron which we sent forward, and I 
understand he is doing good work. 

I think that Smut is over here some place, a sergeant in 
the Dispatch Corps, but I have not had the good fortune 
to see him. His last letter was from New York. He has, 
of course, shown the right spirit, and has had to undergo 
some rather unpleasant experiences. Smut is the proper 
color, and I hope he will come out all right. 

Well, Wain, this is just a line to keep in touch with you. 
Write me as often as you can, and let me know how you are. 
I trust everything continues as well as in your last encourag- 
ing letter. If there is anything you need or want in Detroit, 
write father, and I am sure that he will do anything for a 
friend of mine. He has certainly been wonderful to me 
since I enlisted, before, and all the time. Best luck in the 
world to you. Love to your mother. 
As ever, 

Bill Russel. 
To Mr. C. W. Stephens, 
Albuquerque, N. M. 



Aviation Section, 
A. E. F., France, 
May 18, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

My delightful month is over. I have forgotten the hard- 
ships and feel as if I had spent the time at the Virginia Hot 




"Bill" and "Smut" (Ward Smith) at Fontinali 



Over Th ere 183 

Springs. The only thing lacking was your companionship 
and the company of other dear old friends. I felt as if I 
were a resorter like the other loungers, and was not living on 
borrowed time. The place was so attractive, so quiet, and 
far enough from the aerodromes that one soon forgot that 
he was a flyer, and was content to keep both feet on the 
ground. 

Our course at Cazaux was exceedingly interesting, 
although the hours were long. There was enough bad 
weather to permit us to run over to Arcachon quite often. 
If ever you can say, "I, too, have been in Arcachon," you 
must have looked up Madame Foulon. She serves deli- 
cious meals at a reasonable price, an unusual incident to an 
American officer. We also had the good fortune to have a 
commanding officer who was a flyer himself, and understood 
our point of view. The general attitude of officers who are 
not flyers is that we are flying lieutenants, something quite 
different from a lieutenant, and you are treated accord- 
ingly. I feel sure the day is near at hand, however, when 
this will all be done away with, and the aviator and the 
record which he will make will be appreciated. 

I am again at my former station, where I am only waiting, 
no flying nor any classes. Several offers in the flying line 
have been suggested, but none has met approval, and I have 
been able to side-step them. They are not ready for chasse 
pilots yet (I understand the real reason is that planes are 
lacking), and so they are sending the men into different 
branches where they will be occupied, such as artillery 
observation, monitors, testers, and other like jobs, where you 



184 A Happy Warrior 

are apt to be kept for the remainder of the war, because on 
becoming efficient, you are too valuable to let go. Sandy 
Wetherbee is a monitor, and has warned me against offering 
my services, so I am merely marking time, waiting for call 
as a chasse pilot, which I hope and pray will come soon. 

On my return here, I was shocked by the news that Harry 
Colburn was killed the day before. Ever since my enlist- 
ment, he has been one of my best and closest friends. We 
took our medical exams, together, and I have lived with him 
at Memphis, Ashburn, Rantoul, New York, on the boat, 
Paris, and Issoudun. I have known him day and night, 
and he was always true blue. After being with a man in 
such close companionship for nearly fourteen months, it is a 
terrible bereavement to be suddenly deprived of him, and 
my heart is very sad, but c'est la guerre. Although I am 
right here on the spot, I have been able to obtain few details 
of his death, as this topic is not much discussed after an 
accident takes place. He was flying along in a natural 
position, not performing any acrobatics, when his machine, 
for no apparent cause, suddenly fell into a vrille or tail spin, 
which he immediately corrected, but it seemed as if he over- 
controlled, and fell into another on the opposite side. This 
time, he was too near the ground, and could not regain 
control, and death came to him simultaneously with the 
crash. I was a mourner at his funeral, but could not show 
the grief I felt. I have written his club at Indianapolis 
that they might inform his family, of which, even in all our 
intimacy, I never heard him speak. 

The heat for the last few days has been intense, and I 



QvE R Th ere 185 

have been loafing in my room nearly all the time, almost 
nude, waving ofif flies with one hand, and writing with the 
other. I am getting as fat as a balloon, but, as a little over- 
weight may come in very handy on future diet, I am not 
complaining or dieting. 

Not a single letter has come from anyone for over a 
month . I am sure there must be some letters tucked away, 
and when it cools off, I will go down and raise a riot at the 
postofl&ce. They told me that I had been changing my 
location too often to expect to get any mail. 

Our permissions are still being held up at the request of 
the French government. All travel except that which is 
necessary in military movement has been stopped. We are 
told that they will be issuing them again in the near future, 
and if one comes to me, I will try to visit Mr. Jarves for a day 
or so. I will have to go where I will be a guest. They say 
now that the only people who can travel and visit hotels in 
France are millionaires and American generals. 

Thinking of pay reminds me that up to the present, we 
have not drawn a cent of flying pay. Although Congress 
turned down General Pershing's recommendation, the 
quartermasters have not yet been instructed to pay 
and all refuse. All Americans enthusiastically admire 
General Pershing, but he has something to learn about 
aviation. I venture to say that if he had waited longer 
and learned what service the Aviation Corps will render 
in this war, and really appreciated the record and the 
risks of the air corps, he would never have made his 
recommendation. The distinction between air work and 



186 A Happy Warrior 

the service in other branches, great and glorious as they are, 
is evident to anyone who looks. The aid to the artillery 
and the contribution to the success and safety of troops 
afforded by the British Royal Flying Corps in its contact 
work, for instance, ought to be proof. General Pershing, 
I am sure, will have a change of mind, just as the rest of the 
world will, very soon. 

As it seems that it will be some time before I can be 
assigned to chasse work in a squadron, I think I will apply 
for a job as a ferry pilot. This requires one to deliver 
machines from the ports and from the factory to the front. 
It is not a highly honorable or courageous job, but it allows 
you to keep your hand in flying all types of machines, and 
gives you a great knowledge of the geography and topog- 
raphy of the country, and a fine experience in cross-country 
flying. It will relieve the tedium of doing nothing. One 
becomes terribly restless, just sitting, when this awful war 
is going on, and others are in it and calling for you. 

Love to all. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Aviation Section, 
A. E. F., France, 
May 25, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Yesterday was a holiday for me. With the exception 
of an hour's flying just to keep my hand in, I spent the 
remainder of the day reading letters, the first I have re- 



OvE R Th ere 187 

ceived in six weeks. Notice the dates; it looks like a 
scramble — on May 24, one letter from Christine dated 
December 30, 1917, one from Helen dated April 7, 1918, 
two from you dated April 6 and April 18, one from Wain 
dated April 14, one from Weeanne and Mary Louise dated 
April 22, and one from Captain Reilly dated May 9, which 
came from another post only fourteen miles away. Several 
newspapers from Mr. Jarves came on record time. I went 
to the postoffice, filed a complaint, and was told that I 
ought to be happy to have received such a bunch, but was 
assured that hereafter, I would be taken care of O. K. 
I was so much pleased that my kick was very gentle. I had 
not worried, however, because I feel confident that if any- 
thing should go wrong, you or someone else will always 
resort to a cable to our good friend Mr. Sharp. That is the 
safest and quickest means of communication. 

With the exception of a short flight each day, I am still at 
leisure, waiting and anxious for orders to proceed to the 
front. I think, without doubt, we will be sent out with a 
French squadron, and I am well pleased with the prospect 
for several reasons. First, it will mean that we will prob- 
ably have the Spad as our chasse machine, something we 
would not have in an American squadron. Second, we will 
cross the fines with experienced men. Third, the treatment 
of the French aviator by the army in general is superior to 
that of an American. There still remains a certain holding 
aloof of the Flying Corps in our army. What the aviators 
will do in the air against the enemy and for the Allies is not 
appreciated, and those of us who are not at the front seem 



188 A Happy Warrior 

to be looked upon as gentlemanly loungers. You can rest 
assured that all this will change when the record is made, and 
I think long before the end of the war. 

Until you hear from me, therefore, know that I am an 
embusque, resting peacefully at the Third Aviation In- 
struction Center, enjoying the privileges of the American 
Red Cross, a wonderful institution. Its work has been 
marvelous, and has made life in camp comfortable. Just 
think of such luxuries as rest rooms, restaurants, shower 
baths, and ice plants — permanent fixtures of an army camp; 
then the attractive girls from home working with that 
organization. It seems to be a requisite that everyone 
must be a good dancer, and every Saturday we have a party. 
On these festivities, the nurses from the hospital at Cha- 
teauroux also come over, and we have a regular soiree with 
iced tea and salad for refreshment. It may relieve you to 
know that we have such good company, and enough 
diversion to prevent us from getting stale. 

Although I am content, except for the constant desire 
to be with the boys doing my part at the front, all is not 
happiness about me. The last two weeks have been most 
distressing. The camp has met its first real period of bad 
luck. In the last ten days, we have had ten fatalities and 
several lesser accidents. Death is just as terrible in an 
army camp as on a playground at home, and in each case, 
there is some poor fellow whose heart you can see is touched 
with a deeper gloom than the rest. The loss of Harry 
Colburn came home to me, and it seemed at the first 
announcement that it would break me up. He was killed 



OVE R Th ere 189 

while testing a new machine. Since I parted with Maury, 
Harry has been my closest companion whenever we were 
stationed together. It was a tribute to him to see the great 
number of friends he had made in his short army career. 

Under a recent order of the Post Office Department, no 
packages will be accepted from the States whether with a 
requisition signed by the receiving officer or not. There is 
no doubt that under present conditions, this is a proper and 
necessary order, but the government ought to allow the 
transportation of cigarettes. They are essential to a 
soldier's life, especially if we go with the French, where we 
can get only French cigarettes and tobacco. The weed has 
degenerated in France. 

You asked me about the big gun. It is as mysterious 
to me as to you. I left Paris three days before it began its 
fearful work, and so have no first-hand information. What 
I have heard is from men who have come from Paris. At 
first, it was supposed the bombs were dropped from a new 
type of plane which would fly extraordinarily high, but the 
protecting planes of Paris reached an altitude of twenty- 
two or twenty-three thousand feet, and at that height, they 
could see or hear nothing. So it was no aeroplane. Then, 
it was thought that it must be a gun, and it was up to the 
aeroplanes to determine where it was. They searched the 
whereabouts of Paris, but could discover nothing. We have 
since been told that the gun or guns were located on the 
lines, and that they have been demolished. Whether or 
not, they have been silent as far as Paris is concerned for 
some time. 



190 A Happy Warrior 

I had a most encouraging letter from Wain yesterday, 
and was delighted to hear that he has practically recovered 
his health. 

The one great disturbing thing which is in everybody's 
mind now is the on-coming offensive, which appears to be 
even more terrible and gigantic than the last. Each day, 
however, which intervenes, is an encouragement. Every 
delay on the part of the Germans is to the advantage of the 
Allies, and so far, the stops have been numerous. There is 
anxiety, but we can, and surely must, beat back the Huns, 
and I think that everyone at heart is optimistic of the 
result. 

The letters from home have been most encouraging. At 
times, especially in this branch of the service, where we are 
kept waiting, it seems as if little was being done, but your 
report of your visit to Washington, and of what Detroit is 
contributing to the cause assures us that victory is only a 
matter of time. 

I am in the best of health, and when I am not thinking of 
Harry, in good spirits. Love to all. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



A. E. F., France, 
May 27, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

I am laid up today with a stiff neck, the result of a foolish 
escapade yesterday. The day was perfectly beautiful, and 
I thought I would take a little jaunt to cool off after loafing 
all morning in the hot barracks. I was able to get a swift 



Over Th ere 191 

little flyer, and jumped in with nothing on except my old 
favorite thin buck-skin coat, the same one I wore at Ran- 
toul, and my goggles. The air was perfect, and I sailed 
about just as a bird does for the joy of the thing, looking at 
the beautiful country stretched out below me. When I 
came down, I thought it was one of the most delightful 
flights I had ever taken, and there was nothing to change my 
opinion until I waked up this morning with a neck with no 
joints in it. I am, therefore, sticking close to the room 
today, swathed in a muflSer soaked with Sloan's liniment, 
almost as much to the distress of those about me as to 
myself. You will remember that horse medicine and its 
exceedingly penetrating odor. I welcome anything dif- 
ferent, however, at this time, when there is nothing to do 
but wait. I am getting restless. This idleness has con- 
tinued for nearly two weeks. Tomorrow, we are going over 
to have photographs taken for the French ofl&cers, which 
makes me think that something will come through soon. 

I am enclosing you a newspaper clipping relating the 
exploits of my old room-mate, Ed. Buford. I parted 
with him at Cazaux, where he completed his course 
with me. He was fortunate enough to be assigned im- 
mediately to an American Esquadrille. I knew he would 
make good if his luck continued. Bonne chance must keep 
company with skill in air fighting. 

I was glad to get your note enclosing the letter from 
Harry Wilson. This is the first I have heard from him since 
we parted at Hill school. 

Dick Blodgett, whom I knew at Williams College, and 



192 A Happy Warrior 

have also seen quite frequently here, was brought down at 
the front last week. We are told that if he had not en- 
deavored to reach the hospital, and landed directly, his 
life might have been saved. He was wounded in three 
places, and evidently from loss of blood, fainted and 
crashed to the ground quite near his objective — another 
fine fellow who has "gone west." 

Tomorrow, there will be no work at the camp and memorial 
services will be held for the boys who have lost their lives in 
training at this school. The remainder of the day will be a 
fete, and the boys of the various squadrons will hold a track 
meet. The enlisted men are worked mighty hard, and 
certainly are entitled to a day off. On most of the fields 
here, the average is about four machines to two mechanics. 

This seems to me to be far from an interesting letter, and 
I have talked about incidents which I usually omit, but it is 
penned by a soldier with a stiff neck, who is penned in a 
small space between four walls. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Hotel Continental, 
Paris, 

June 5, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Again I have been returned to civilization — my first 
sight of Paris since March. There is little change in the 
city except meatless days now, and the sand-bagging of the 
finer statuary and monuments has been completed. The 
same noticeable unconcerned attitude of the Parisians 



OvE R Th ere 193 

remains, and if it were not that the railroad stations were 
filled with refugees from the lost territory, all would appear 
natural and charming. It is a most pathetic sight to see 
these people, with what little belongings they have left, 
pushing their tired way, with remarkable spirit and little 
complaint, to some place of quiet. All this, after four 
years of suffering the deprivations and horrors of war in 
their own country. The Red Cross and the Y. M. C. A. are 
holding out a helping hand in every way. Paris is a bee- 
hive for them both. 

There is no panic now; the populace merely appear to be 
annoyed by the uncertainty of the big gun throughout the 
day, and the Gothas by night. I was misinformed when I 
wrote you that the big gun had been silenced. I see by the 
morning papers that it keeps up its mission of terror, but so 
far, to my good fortune, I have not even heard one of the 
explosions, and there are several each day. 

With the night raids, it is otherwise. Out of my four 
evenings in Paris, three have been rudely interrupted by the 
shriekings of the sirens, which, to me, are more nerve- 
racking than the actual raid. One of them came while 
I was at the theater, and it was astonishing to observe the 
coolness with which the majority of the people took the 
warning, the larger part of the audience being women and 
children. At the first alerte, announcement is made from 
the stage, and the performance immediately stops. The 
music continues, but the lights are dim and the people 
wander slowly towards the doors and out into the street in a 
most unconcerned manner. If there is any rush or scram- 



194 A Happy Warrior 

ble, it is usually by some person or group who want to get 
the first call on one of the few taxis which may possibly be 
found. During a raid, the taxi driver is in clover, usually 
sprawled out in the back of his 1900 model. You must go 
to him with your offerings and beg him to set some un- 
reasonable price for a ride to some place convenient to him 
as near as may be to your destination. Aside from parting 
with the fabulous sum demanded, I prefer to walk. This 
can be done with moderate safety. The principal danger is 
not so much from the bombs as from the protecting barrage 
which you can see breaking continually in the sky. In each 
block, there are several abris or caves, which hold from thirty 
to sixty people, to which you can retreat if the bombs begin 
to drop too near. The great size of the city of Paris also 
gives you a certain amount of assurance. The city is 
plunged in darkness, and it is rather amusing to feel your 
way along through the black streets to your hotel, and to 
hear the curious remarks of the passengers in the carriages 
and taxis crawling by you at a slow pace. 

The whole thing is thrilling, and the wonderful city of 
Paris impresses me more on this second visit than on the 
former. I have had more time to spend at places that are 
worth while. The people, however, tell me again and 
again that the Paris of today is not that of the before war 
time. It makes me wonder what it was like. The streets 
now are bustling with people, sprinkled with uniforms of 
every type and color, and the tea rooms and cafes along the 
boulevards are filled with pretty faces and dresses. It is a 
constant picture to look upon the streets bordered with 



OVE R Th ere 195 

tables occupied by animated people, clad in shades of every 
color, blending together in one place and standing out like a 
kaleidoscope at another. 

My work at present is still waiting, and I am afraid the 
same occupation in the daytime will continue for a while 
yet. Just enough flying in protecting Paris against night 
raids to keep our hands in. The remainder of the time 
we are idle. It is becoming very monotonous, and we are 
all getting more and more anxious to put our hands into the 
fire at the front. 

In my wanderings here, I ran across Vallie again. He has 
just returned from Italy, where he was doing ambulance 
work. He said the fever was slowly increasing, and that 
malaria was imminent to anyone who stayed there. He 
resigned from the Red Cross, and had decided to return to 
America, but we have persuaded him to stay here and go 
into the French artillery. 

More papers and magazines from Mr. Jarves, and another 
kind invitation to visit him. There is no such thing, how- 
ever, as a permission in the army today. 

I have just had a very interesting talk with Andy King. 
He has returned from England, where he completed a course 
in night bombing. He is hoping to be sent out very soon 
with the French. None of us knows from one minute to 
the next where he will be. I have met many of my Cornell 
and other friends about Paris. It is certainly the meeting 
place of the world. 



196 A Happy Warrior 

I feel sure I will write again very soon with news. In the 
meanwhile, give my love to all. Well. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



U. S. Air Service, 
A. E. F., France, 
June 25, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

I am sorry for the long delay between this letter and the 
last, because I am sure it troubled you, but there is no cause 
for worry. 

My work of late has been most interesting, and not at all 
monotonous. It has taken me over many parts of France 
in the unique way of by the air. There are quite a group 
of us, who have finished training, awaiting machines and 
the organization of squadrons. In the meantime, they 
have assembled us at a camp near Paris, where we can go 
to the various factories and ports to take delivery of ma- 
chines as fast as they are finished. These planes are all 
gathered where we are stationed, and as they call for ma- 
chines from the front or from other schools, it is our duty 
to deliver them, obtain a receipt, and return to our station. 
It is delightful work and of the utmost value to a pilot. 
Not only do you obtain wonderful experience in cross- 
country flying and the use of a compass, but you must fly 
any kind of a machine turned over to you. So far, I have 
navigated the following: Biplanes and Monoplanes — Spads, 
Sopwiths, Sampsons, Nieuports (18, 23 and 28), Caudrons, 
and Voisins. I have made about fifteen trips ranging in 



OvE R Th ere 197 

distance from one hundred and fifty to two hundred and 
fifty miles all over a strange country, and each trip differs 
in the conditions of atmosphere and landing fields. When 
we are sent to the front to make delivery there, the machines 
are fully equipped with fighting apparatus except ammuni- 
tion. It is a foolish practice, but a non-flying officer, who is 
the one in command, seems to pay little attention to advice 
about flying. One of the boys, Steve Brody, was forced 
down to the ground with several shots through the wing, and 
he was fortunate to get away with it as he did. Before the 
last offensive, we used to stop near Chateau Thierry for 
gasoline. This town is now in the hands of the Germans, 
and some of the aeroplanes we delivered have been taken by 
them. I have been fortunate enough never to collide with 
any of the Boches yet, but often, returning on the train, 
I have seen German planes in the course that I have just 
completed. 

I was much disappointed yesterday in missing out on a 
trip to London in one of the new Liberty motors. Dick 
Este, a very good friend of mine, had orders to deUver one to 
Hendon, England. He wanted a companion to relieve him 
in the flying. I was the logical man, and it was arranged. 
Our trip, however, came to grief about an hour later in the 
test flight, when, in making a landing, he hit a hidden 
furrow. The wheels stuck, and she rolled over on her back. 

I have another sad piece of news to tell. Although you 
do not know the boy, I have often spoken of him in my 
letters. Joe Trees, who lived with me in Paris, was killed in 
London. He was flying a Sopwith-Camel, the trickiest 



198 A Happy Warrior 

kind of a machine, when it caught jBre in the air, and 
he was burned to death. This is the one horror I have in 
flying. Joe's father is one of the big men of Pittsburgh and 
Joe was his only son. He was a fine chap and had 
everything in the world to live for. It is lamentable to 
think that the poor fellow came to such a dreadful death in 
an accident. 

You will recall my mentioning a Dutchman named 
Delange, who came over on the boat with us from America, 
and claimed to have invented a new telephone. He was the 
man who promised to do so much through his influence with 
the Holland Minister for any of us if we should be taken 
prisoner. I picked up a paper a day or two ago, and lo 
and behold, the news was published that a German spy had 
been executed in Paris, whose name was Delange, and who 
posed as the inventor of a new telephone based on the 
principle of heat waves. We all suspected this man on the 
boat, and were on our guard. He stuck close to us, and 
always joined us in the smoking room and wanted to set up 
the drinks or play cards and foolishly throw away his 
money. All the time, however, he was asking too many 
questions. So you can see that although I have done 
nothing yet for my country, I have had some experiences. 

Saturday Nights and magazines keep coming from Mr. 
Jarves, who is most thoughtful. Another fine package came 
from Cousin Catharine Leggat from Folkstone, where, by 
the way, we expected to land on our flight to London 
yesterday; also a notice from Brown Brothers of another 
letter of credit. This traveling about France in these days, 







Orly, July, 1918 



Over Th ere 199 

even by way of the sky, cannot be done for a song or on an 
aviator's pay. The notice came, just as your welcome 
letters do, when wanted most. 

My prayer now is that the air service will carry on at the 
front as gloriously as the land forces. Their work has been 
wonderful, and the French vie with the British in their praise. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



U. S. Air Service, 
A. E. F., France, 
July 4, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Time rolls on and it makes me almost ashamed to say that 
we are still doing nothing but wait, but I can assure you that 
none of the pilots is to blame. One must look higher up and 
back in the States to locate the cause of the delay. Our 
spirits run high, and you never saw a more enthusiastic 
crowd, but we have been moved from place to place, fed 
with vain promises. 

My present sojourn at Orly has been comfortable and 
instructive. It is more or less a booking agency where the 
old squadrons are replenished as men are needed, and new 
squadrons formed and sent out. While you are on call, you 
do night flying in defense of Paris, or act as ferry pilot to 
deliver machines where they are needed. When flying in the 
dark, not knowing the conditions beneath or the location 
of the aerodrome, there is always the wonder what to do in 
case of a forced landing. One is glad to see the lights 
blaze out and to be safe on earth again. Ferry piloting 



200 A Happy Warrior 

takes you to the various schools, to the front, and to England. 
After each trip, you return to Orly by way of Paris, which gets 
us there very often, and it is then you are made to feel that 
you are doing nothing. American pilots are so numerous in 
Paris that it is causing comment, because they seem to be, 
and really are, idle; and yet, each day one reads in the 
papers about the German avions flying unmolested over the 
American sectors. The criticism falls upon us. I hope the 
time will come when the lavish descriptions printed in the 
American magazines will come true, and that we will be 
equipped and permitted to do our share in the air like the 
British. The Royal Air Force is wonderful. Recently, 
forty German planes and three observation balloons were 
brought down; six machines failed to return. 

Today is the Fourth of July, and is declared a legal 
holiday in France. A great many people are marching in 
parades, each with a little American flag. The automobiles 
are decorated, the stores are draped, and the air is filled with 
patriotic leaflets dropped from aeroplanes. It is a real 
Fourth of July celebration, and probably the beginning of 
many in France. 

Your letter and one from Anne made me glad yesterday — 
the first from the States in two weeks. The only other mail 
in the interval was a nice note from Cousin Catherine Leggat 
and a letter from Ed. Buford. Cousin Catherine tells me 
to write her for anything I want, and says she has seen sev- 
eral of the young Canadian relatives in London. She 
spoke of Hendrie Hay, the twins, Ian Hendrie, Willie 
Leggat and Margaret Hay, who had returned to England 



OVE R Th ere 201 

because her hospital had been inhumanly demolished by 
German bombs. I am looking forward to the time when 
I shall have an opportunity to look up a few unknown 
relatives in England and Scotland. 

Toots Wardell, one of my friends at Memphis, Ashburn 
and Rantoul, was bringing a machine back from England 
ten days ago, and has not been heard from since. Rabbit 
Curry was flying with him over the Channel, and he says 
that after they reached the Continent, Toots flew directly 
east, and he was unable to head him off. The correct 
direction is south. If he made a safe landing, he is probably 
a prisoner in Germany. 

Ed. Buford is one of the very few of us at the front, and 
has done remarkably well. His letter thrilled me. They 
have a vacancy just now in their squadron, and he has made 
request that I be called for replacement. This would suit 
me beyond words. I know most of the fellows in that 
squadron. It is the one to which Bill Casgrain was at- 
tached. I have done what little I can at this end to bring it 
about, but have no assurance. 

Vallie enlisted with the French artillery the first of July 
and goes to the school at Fontainbleau next week. I am 
very much pleased. He has done the right thing. 

Until you hear again, you can see me in your mind's eye 
scouting at night, or flying a machine from somewhere to 
some place and returning on the train, or idly waiting, only 
waiting, anxious for the call. With love to all. Well. 
Your loving son, 

William. 



202 A Happy Warrior 

American University 

Union of Europe, 
Paris, France, 
July 10, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Still on the waiting list, safe and sound, enjoying an 
occasional excellent meal in Paris, with a warm bath on a 
Friday or a Saturday as the impulse moves me. It is 
necessary, however, that the impulse move on either of these 
nights. A city ordinance permits hotels to have hot water 
only twice a week. This change of atmosphere from camp 
to Paris is all that keeps us from going into a decline. 
After fifteen months of training and waiting, one is ready to 
prove his worth and endeavor to show it. Instead, we live 
upon unfulfilled promises which are depressing to the spirit. 
Of course, it cannot be helped now, and it will take some 
time to remedy the situation. In the interval, we must 
twirl our fingers and be criticized as idlers by the other 
branches of the army and civilians, and, in fact, by almost 
everybody. It is too bad that our program has been so 
delayed, and that the Boches have been able to go ahead and 
prepare for us so much the more. It has thrown an extra 
load on the flying corps of the other Allies. The British 
Royal Air Forces cannot be given too much praise and glory 
for what they have accomplished, as well as for what they 
have taught. 

One of your Christmas boxes, containing the cigarettes 
and knitted articles from the kids, and the book, "Cavalry 
of the Clouds," was joyfully received yesterday. That 
book is an accurate and good story of aviation. It gives 







Orly, July, 1918 



OvE R Th ere 203 



you an excellent idea of the way the British have worked 
aviation into unison with the other branches of the service, 
of which very little has yet been done by the French or the 
Germans. The two latter have used their planes for 
chasse work and effective bombing, but have hardly 
touched contact patrol or the use of the plane in attacks 
with the infantry. 

Then, too, in the box, were the knitted socks of Eleanor's 
which she asked me to give to Harry Colburn. I will pass 
them on to another. He was buried long before they came. 
It adds to my grief that Harry never got his chance at the 
front. The belated package gave me food for thought. 
Out of the forty-three of us who sailed from New York in 
October, not counting those who have been fortunate 
enough to be called to the front, six have been killed and two 
crippled for life, and the terrible part of it all is that none of 
them was able to offer his life in action. Although finished 
pilots, they got no chance, and the only record is, "Died in 
Aeroplane Accident." 

I am enclosing several snapshots which may amuse you, 
and which will show you the latest addition to the Russel 
family — one police dog, "Stupide" by name, aged eight 
months. The name fits either the dog or the master. One 
thing is sure, I cannot teach him anything. He has, how- 
ever, a beautiful face and head, and loves me, and seems to 
be able to converse fluently in French. He probably 
thinks I am telling him my name when I call him Stupide. 
The plane in the photo is the machine which was assigned to 
me at field number eight, and was for my exclusive use 



204 A Happy Warrior 

during my stay there. No one could touch it except my 
three mechanics, and if I broke it or piled it up, I had to stay 
on the ground until it was repaired. 

The tension in Paris has subsided with the prospects so 
much brighter. For a while — it seemed a long time — it was 
a city of gloom. The feeling of doubt was universal. Fate 
might fall either way. Now, it is evident that the critical 
period, for Paris at any rate, is passed. The British have 
stood up like a stone wall. The stubborn and persistent 
fighting of the French Poilu cannot be beaten when it comes 
to a holding fight. Our land forces, and, I hope, a swarm 
of planes, too, will be there to give the finishing blow. 

My health is A No. 1, as you can judge from the photos — 
not underfed nor underclothed. Hoping that you are all 
well and happy, 

Your loving son, 

William. 



95th Aero Squadron, 

First Pursuit Group, 

A. E. F., France, 

July 20, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Eventful things have happened since my last letter. A 
week ago yesterday I was sitting in the Hotel Crillon with 
several other boys when an orderly entered and asked for 
Lieutenant Russel. He told me to report immediately to the 
commanding oflicer. My past life flitted quickly through 
my mind, and I could think of no reason for court-martial 
or any minor offense which might have come to light. 

I parted with the fellows and reported at once to the C. O. 




-^ 




15 Metre Nieuport Pursuit Plune 



OVE R Th ere 205 

My knees stopped knocking when he greeted me verj'^ 
cordially. "Sit down, young man. You are about to enter into 

the final step of your army career. You will proceed to 

and join the 95th Squadron. A plane will be ready for you 
tomorrow evening. In the meantime, lay out your route 
and pack your baggage, which will follow you by truck." 

This was my notification. I was delighted because the 
boys of this squadron are all familiar. It is the same 
squadron to which Bill Casgrain and Quentin Roosevelt 
were attached. I obeyed the orders, and the next evening 
found me all ready to proceed to my destination. I rose 
from Paris about six in the evening, and after an hour's 
flight over very attractive country, arrived at my aero- 
drome. Here, a cordial welcome awaited me, and I was 
billeted in a cottage in a small French town with an old 
French woman. My hospitable greeting was followed by 
very kindly attention, and I can assure you that I am far 
more comfortable than you can imagine under the circum- 
stances. At dinner time, I was ushered into another small 
dwelling, where the flying officers of our squadron dine. 
At last, I have found a place where flying lieutenants are 
officers, and their position and safety are regarded. 

After dinner, Captain Peterson gave me a short talk and 
informed me that on the morrow, I would go in a patrol up 
to the lines where I could become accustomed to the action 
of the aircraft guns and the bursting of their shells. It was 
a safe enough trip, and, of course, of the utmost interest, as 
it gave me the first actual sight, a bird's-eye view of the 
war-ridden country, in one of the busiest sectors of the 
fighting at this time. 



206 A Happy Warrior 

Father, it is truly terrible beyond description — the once 
beautiful country ravaged and pitted with shell holes, and 
the homes of the people who were happy so short a time ago, 
and the attractive buildings and churches either burning or 
already leveled to the ground in ruin. Very little has 
escaped the cruel fire of the large guns and the frightful 
destruction of a merciless enemy. This was my intro- 
duction to actual warfare, and my first impression was one of 
horror and stupefaction. It was far worse than I had 
thought, and truly, it seems to me that it is inconceivable 
to one who does not see it with his own eyes. This finished 
our work for that day, and the rest of my time was spent in 
studying the map and learning the lay of the country. 

The next day I began work in earnest, and was sent in a 
patrol for action if necessary. We flew at an altitude of 
between four and five thousand metres, well back of the 
German lines, looking for whatever trouble might be found. 
If any had come, I believe that I would have been of little 
assistance. Although at a high altitude, and bitterly cold, 
beads of perspiration broke out all over me. I was safe 
enough, however, huddled up in the middle of the squadron 
with experienced men on all sides. My instructions were to 
witness everything, learn directions, and keep out of a 
fracas unless it should be absolutely necessary to help others 
or defend myself — observation, and not fighting. I saw 
many Boche machines but no fighting. Below me all the 
time was Hell's fire, actually. 

My patrol work has advanced slowly in order that I 
might have entire confidence in myself and feel at home in 
my machine. It has really been an interesting adventure 



OvE R Th ere 207 

under the wise and excellent instructions of our flight 
commander. But, father, enough of this. I know it does 
not make you happy, and as yet I have done nothing except 
to observe and be taught and nursed by other more compe- 
tent and experienced men. I feel, however, that I am about 
ready for the Boches now, and want to get at them. 

After duty yesterday. Captain Peterson* was kind enough 
to take me to the front with him. He was going to visit his 
cousin, a captain in the field artillery. This brought me 
well inside our observation balloons in the zone of the Ger- 
man artillery fire. We were equipped with steel helmets 
and gas masks, and wended our way into a small cluster of 
woods, where we found a battery of 75's well concealed. 
It was pleasant and interesting until we heard the buzzing 
through the air of the German shells. The captain told us 
that they had been throwing in gas shells all day, but that 
their range was poor and the projectiles were falling in 
another patch of woods some three hundred metres away. 
Every two or three minutes, we could hear the hissing of the 
shells and the explosions, which were not very loud. Now 
and then, when they came a little too close, the captain 
would telephone to another battery which would open up in 
retaliation, and change the direction of their fire. To me, 
to be continually under such a strain would be too nerve- 
racking. To him, it was merely the daily routine. It 
certainly takes iron nerves, and in spite of what some may 
think to be a greater peril, I prefer the quieter work of an 
aviator. We spent an hour with the battery, and then 

♦Major Peterson, ace, after his return from notable foreign service, was killed in an 
accidental fall of only about seventy-five feet at Daytona, Fla., March 16, 1919. 



208 A Happy Warrior 

drove back to our field. It was all very interesting, but 
I admit a nerve-shaking afternoon. 

The change of attitude on the part of the French is 
strikingly noticeable. At first, they were enthusiastic beyond 
all bounds over the Americans. Then there was a long 
period of waiting without action, and their enthusiasm 
cooled. At times I thought they almost looked askance at 
us; but once more their admiration and gratitude are un- 
bounded, and they show it in their demonstrative way. Vive 
les Americains, hurra, hurra! Our infantry and the marines 
have done such superb work. France is ringing with their 
praise. They have instilled a new spirit into the Allies. 

I left Paris safe and sound, and with the exception of the 
interruption of the big gun, which pounds continually, it was 
apparently remote from the seat of war. It was a social 
gathering place, and the Hotel Crillon was our rendezvous. 
The last day I was there, VaUie, Sid Cole, Rummy, Bob 
White, and Doc Pumpelly, our French professor at Cornell, 
were gathered at one table. It was a joyous meeting, and 
like old times at college. Although I was glad to get the 
summons, I was sorry to part from the company. Sid Cole 
has been in the front line since February. 

Well, father, at last I am on the battle line, and can write 
with my head up, and if spared to join you once more, I can 
look at you without blushing, I hope. It has been a long 
time for me to wait, but perhaps I am the better for it, and 
all is well. Love to everybody. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



OvE R Th ere 209 

95th Aero Squadron, 
First Pursuit Group, 
United States Air Service, 
France, August 3, 1918. 
Dear Father — 

Time has changed my career from a life of Parisian leisure 
to one of strenuous work. It came as a great surprise and 
also a great pleasure. After a year and a half of training, 
one is prepared to do his part and yet I lingered on a mere 
recruit, away from the front, merely guarding Paris in night 
raids and piloting new aeroplanes across France to the front. 

The last three weeks, however, have been real and worth 
while. One retires most willingly each evening long before 
dark to be prepared for the work of the next day, which may 
start at 3:30 a. m. or 6, according to the report which 
comes at midnight. An orderly awakens you an hour 
beforehand, so that you stand prepared when the machines 
take off for their mission. 

It is a beautiful sight to watch the take-off before a patrol. 
The eighteen machines stand in two columns with all 
motors going. When the signal is given, the first machine 
leaves the ground with the second not fifty yards behind, 
and then the third, etc. On reaching an altitude of some 
thousand metres, they fall naturally into a circle, revolving 
about the field. When the last machine has reached the alti- 
tude, the two flight leaders, or three it may be, break away 
from the circle, and the flights drop into position behind 
their leaders and start for the lines in a continual climb. 

Our work is of different types — all with the main purpose, 
however, of knocking down enemy machines. We may 



210 A Happy Warrior 

have low patrols from one thousand five hundred to two 
thousand five hundred metres, or high from three thousand 
five hundred to five thousand metres. The latter are by- 
far the safest. You are at an advantage and without 
the constant worry that some one may fall on you 
from out of the "sun." 

Another job which comes under our routine is to act as 
protectors to the bombing and reconnaissance machines, 
which are slow and necessarily have to penetrate a long way 
into Germany. 

A fourth mission on which we are sent is to attack bal- 
loons which are some five kilometers behind the lines and are 
quite low and well guarded by planes and anti-aircraft guns. 

The last and most disagreeable work is "strafing" the 
infantry in action, trains of camions and troops on the 
march. This is done from an altitude of only two or three 
hundred metres, and if you are hit you are too far from your 
own lines to be able to glide into them. At the beginning 
of the offensive, this fell to our lot several times, but of late 
we have been entirely relieved from it, for which we are all 
thankful. The situation is changed and the artillery 
guided by the high contact patrols were better able to do 
the work. It is quite amusing, but one has to take too 
many chances to derive sufficient pleasure from it. 

These various air performances have occupied my days 
for the past three weeks, and although it is for only four 
hours a day, it is quite tiring work. The strong wind 
blows on your face all day, and you are ever on the alert, 
continually watching like a hawk the move of every machine 
above, below, and around you, with one eye fixed steadily 



OVE R Th ere 211 

on the sun, if that is possible. Thus we spend the time; 
two hours in the morning, and then the accustomed wait 
for the various machines to return and the tales from each. 
After luncheon the same thing again in the afternoon. 

Well, father, enough of this, except to add that we look 
out for and see everything in the air and on land, and that 
the Allies have done remarkable work. 

My mail has been coming through very well again. Our 
treatment is of the best. While we are on the ground, every 
consideration and privilege is given us. Automobiles 
and the utmost of liberties. Our quarters and the mess, 
considering the circumstances, are excellent. We are only 
expected to be ready with our machines for patrol, carry out 
the orders of that patrol, and the remainder of the time is 
our own. This has given us ample opportunity to visit the 
front several times and wander through the wrecked 
villages and devastated country. It is horrible. We must 
exact amends for it. 

Am in the best of health. With love to all. 

Your loving son, 

William. 



Before this last letter was received, the following cable- 
gram came: 

CABLEGRAM 
Received at Detroit, August 22, 1918. 
Sans Origin. No Date. 
Allen F. Edwards, 
Detroit, Michigan. 
William Russel killed in combat August eleventh. Heart- 
felt sympathy. Lyster. 



212 A Happy Warrior 

Grosse Pointe Park, Michigan, 
August 23, 1918. 
Father Darling — 

William is dead. Such a brief span of life it seems — 
such a short hour of duty before he made his sacrifice. 
While I was crying, it came to me that William was ready; 
that he gave up his life gladly. 

I like to think of him with a quiet peace in his heart, 
a little peace inviolate in the midst of horror and carnage. 

When they give up all thought of self, as we know he did, 
and live face to face with immortality, they take on some 
of its glory. Their spirit is of God, and, father, I believe 
they die gladly, if it will help. 

When I heard the message, I said to myself, "Can father 
bear this burden?" You have lost so much. Then I 
thought of William answering, "Yes." He had no other 
ties or affiliations. All his admiration and love was for you. 
He would have said "Yes" believing in your strength. 
How we stumble when we come to the lesson of fortitude, 
but, father, you must not. He has been worthy of you. 
Now it is your turn. We loved him and he is gone, but we 
can love him still. 

Affectionately, 

Anne. 



/ v 









IMS 



/-" 









A:-^<^5;^^ 



.^^'i 







-From a Photograph. 



COURVILLE, FRANCE 



'E'en as he trod that day to God, so walked he from his birth, 
In simpleness and gentleness and honor and clean mirth. 
************** 

They made him place at the Banquet Board — the Strong Men ranged thereby, 
Who had done his work and held his peace and had no fear to die." 

— Kipling. 



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